We Have Harry Potter
by spellmugwump97
Summary: Death Eaters were still hiding in the shadows, even decades after the war. Harry Potter is taken by them - and the Wizarding World is thrown into chaos once more.
1. Part 1

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

'We have Harry Potter.'

Screams erupted throughout the main atrium in the ministry of magic, as a large, projector like screen suddenly materialized from thin air.

Being wizards and witches, members of the wizarding world, many would presume that these sorts of occurrences happened frequently, but that was not the honest truth.

A collection of people, mostly with red hair, burst through the crowd, right at the foot of the strange projection, looking up in horror, much more horror than that of most of the people already at the scene, for they were Harry Potter's family.

Upon the screen, was a masked person in a dark room, their face presumably lit by the light of a wand.

The person had a strangely raspy voice, as if it were not usually put to use. The mask was incredibly eerily, it almost seemed to emit a kind of white light, that made the sullen figure of which it was being worn by much more intimidating than it probably actually was. The robes of the man on the screen seemed to be once very well looked after, but now were very dirty, and very badly frayed around the seams and stitches of the robes. They were pure black.

'Yes, we have the infamous Harry Potter.'

And with that echoing sentence, which seemed to reverberate around the grand hall, of which was no completely silent, in shock and horror, the man on the screen twitched his wand so that it's light fell on another figure.

The body of Harry Potter was propped up, tied tight, though his head still slumped down weakly on his chest. He had many cuts and bruises lining the form of what could be seen of his ravaged body, his left leg was bent at a strange angle, he was covered in dirt, and was panting slightly, as though trying to breathe was the hardest thing in the world to do at that moment in time for him.

He did not look up at the light that basked him, but continued making his jittery breaths, and twitched his right hand slightly, as though he ached and longed to have his wand in his hand.

Many people took in a massive gulp of breath as they saw the state of Harry Potter. Some women screamed slightly, and others were in tears.

Harry Potter meant a lot to the wizarding world.

Defeater of Lord Voldemort, main winner of the first and second wizarding wars, head auror, one of the best, if not _the _best auror ever seen, humble, modest, handsome, star seeker, tri-wizard tournament winner, (though he always insisted that it was a tie) finder of the infamous chamber of secrets, basilisk slayer, Order of Merlin, first class, brilliant father, loving husband.

Yes, Harry Potter meant a lot to the wizarding world.

Well, most of them. Some, of course, _hated_ him. _Despised_ him. They were the misfits of society, the people who wished nothing but badness and revenge upon Harry Potter, and his brats, as they liked to call them.

To them, he ruined their dream, killed their leader. And now, some of those nasty people, those horrible people, had gotten a hold of Harry Potter.

In essence, Harry Potter was doomed.

Chuckling softly, in a way that was so menacing that it made the people watching the screen's skin crawl, the mystery man on the projection raised his wand and pointed it directly at Harry Potter's head.

'_Crucio_!'

More screams and sobbing came from below the floating image, as they all watched helplessly, and yet equally transfixed at the sight hovering above them.

Harry Potter was writhing, his head still bent, his limbs struggling independently against the bonds that were holding him. They did not relent.

Then, with a slight hiss, he screamed. It was, undoubtedly, the most terrible thing that any of the people below had ever heard; it was inhuman, a sound so horrific that it seemed impossible that a human could ever utter a noise so detestable and gut-wrenching as that.

And then, it stopped, and the man brought the light once more to his masked face, clearly revelling in Harry Potter's pain, even though the sneering smirk could not be seen, it was almost tangible.

'We haven't decided what to do with him yet.' The man switched the light onto Harry Potter's exhausted and battered form; 'But when we have an idea, we shall be sure to let you know. Be sure of one thing, though. You will never be seeing Mr. Potter here again.'

Nobody in the hall moved, they all remained far to transfixed on the projection hovering above their heads.

'Any last words, Potter?'

It seemed, the whole hall held their breath at these words. Harry Potter looked up into what felt like every person in the hall's eyes, as he spoke his next words.

'I'm sorry.'

And with his piercing green eyes - now vacant of the trademark round glasses that he usually wore - rooting everybody to the spot, the projection evaporated, leaving behind it a shocked and silent, distraught and disbelieving nation.

* * *

><p>James Potter wandered down to the great hall from the Gryffindor Common Room. It was a Sunday, and he was one of the last people up; if not, the last.<p>

He murmured the odd couple of greetings here and there, gave Hugo a little shove and _accidentally_ bumped into Louis and his latest fling snogging unashamedly in a broom cupboard, until he finally reached the great hall, and sat down with a large collection of red heads - and one black - communing on the Gryffindor table.

He was in his sixth year; and it was very near the end of the school year. Finally, _finally_, he was going to be a seventh year, and he could not wait.

He took a large gulp of pumpkin juice from one of his cousin's goblet's - he had no idea which - and then had a look at the newspaper that had just been dropped into his hands by an owl overhead.

He heard many gasps, and even a couple of little screams, and wondered what had caused them to be so stupidly dramatic.

_HARRY POTTER: CAPTURED_

James promptly realised what all of the gasps were about, as he emptied the contents of his pumpkin juice filled mouth onto an equally oblivious cousin of his, Roxanne, and his horrified younger sister, Lily.

He continued reading the dreaded article, not wanting to find out it's contents, but far too enraptured to stop now.

_A shocking event occurred yesterday afternoon, in the atrium of the Ministry Of Magic. At prime time business for the Ministry, our sources tell us that a large projection appeared, hovering above the heads of the many Ministry workers present. The screen's image held a man, dressed clearly in some Death Eater robes, presumably derived from either the first or second wizarding wars. As we all know and have come to associate, this dark clothing is often linked incontrovertibly with the dark arts and general bad will._

_But, what shocked the audience below it was a most distressing sight for most of the wizarding community; Harry Potter, captured. Potter was depicted bound to a chair in an unknown location, though our sources tell us that the location was seemingly very comparable to a dungeon, or the like._

_More horrific actions ensued, as the presumable Death Eater cast the Cruciatus curse on Potter, who apparently looked very near death already. The message finally cut off with the departing words of Mr. Potter's so-called last words; an apology, though for what is still unclear to most of the wizarding public._

_The family of Mr. Potter have refused to comment, but the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, did release this statement to the public;_

"_The Auror Department, and the Department Of Magical Law Enforcement are both working around the clock to try to find, and rescue Mr. Potter. It is indeed a great blow to our society to have such an important Ministerial, and war-time figure to be captured as such, but we, at the Ministry, feel that we will be able to apprehend the person responsible as soon as we possibly can. For now, the best we can do as a nation, and world, is to hope for the best outcome possible, and to implore with any person that may know anything about the capture of Mr. Potter to report to the Ministry at once."_

_We, here at the Daily Prophet, hope for the very best with Mr. Potter's rescue, and our thoughts are with Mr. Potter's family, in this grim time of their, and our, lives._

_For more information about Mr. Potter's life, and his defeat of Lord Voldemort in 1997, please turn to page 8 …_

James was frozen to his seat. People were whispering now, pointing, staring, at the little collection of his family that was currently still residing at Hogwarts. He looked around the table at the closest people to him, in more ways than geographical.

Lily.

Rose.

Louis.

Lucy.

Roxanne.

Dominique.

Molly.

Albus.

Hugo.

They all looked like the world had come to an end; everyone in his family was very close to each other. James knew that he could go to any one of his uncles, or aunts, or even perhaps cousins if the need would arise, and not get laughed at or ridiculed for even the most embarrassing of problems.

But, his dad was probably the most approachable adult of them all. He seemed to have an uncanny knack of knowing what exactly it was that was wrong, and always seemed to have a way of solving the problem, whatever it was. Even in the rare occasion that he was helpless, he would still point you in the right direction, or give you comfort.

Somehow, you always left feeling better after having talk with uncle Harry, though James knew that his dad was really quite uncomfortable with being called "uncle" at first. James did not have a clue why, but he guessed it was something to do with _his_ uncle, though he never confided, or talked to anyone about his childhood, except from his wife, a fact that had annoyed James' uncle Ron and aunt Hermione to no end. Privately, James felt that it was very unlikely that his father had even ever had one. Yes, James knew and caught onto a lot, even if he did not appear to.

He'd always looked up to his dad. Not only was he the saviour or the wizarding world, and all of that stuff, but he was so kind hearted and brave, and _selfless_, that it almost made it impossible to not like him or stay in an argument with him for long. Yes, his self-blaming techniques did get on his nerves, but his dad could not help it. It was just the way he was, and James would never change his father for the world.

_He really was an amazing dad_ - thought James, before he abruptly stopped himself.

_Stop acting like he's dead! _James berated himself. _Yeah, he's been captured, and probably being tortured, and hurt, and if the Prophet's anything to go by - _James' self-reassurance seemed to quickly turn to panicked, wild thoughts.

He quickly rose from his seat, unaware of every single eye in the great hall that was concentrated on him, and he started walking briskly towards the grand and ornate doors, barely noticing that both Al and Lily were right behind him, the same hard look in their eyes, that told everybody who saw them to stand out of the way.

Really, the Potter siblings were a force to be reckoned with. With their inherited rash Weasley tempers from their mother's side, and their positively explosive tempers from their father's side, Hogwarts had learnt surprisingly quickly to never mess with an angry Potter, even at eleven years old.

When they reached the large stone griffin that blocked the headmistress' office from themselves, they all, in unison started shouting and hurling random war-related phrases at the griffin, as that was usually to topic for Professor Mcgonagall.

'Dumbledore!'

'Riddle!'

'Phoenix!'

'Victory!'

They were now getting desperate. Surprisingly, Lily was the one who huffed, and despite her clearly distraught state, gave a small, weak but sincere, grin.

'Isn't it obvious?'

At her brother's clueless looks towards each other and their younger sister, she spoke clearly in her melodically voice,

'Potter!'

She smirked annoyingly back at James and Albus.

'Well, he only won the war.'

But at the slight mention of their father at the beginning of the sentence, her voice tempered out towards the end of the sentence, her face dropping. She, once again, looked very near tears.

Before James could get near her, Albus was already there in a flash, putting his arm around her comfortingly, a very solemn look on his face.

Though James was somewhat irritated, he saw the look on his brothers face. Desolation. It looked like Albus was going to fall apart if he did not have the - if minor - support of Lily.

In all honestly, James was feeling incredibly fragile, and tedious in the emotional department, but he _had_ to hold it together.

For mum.

For Al.

For Lily.

What else could he do? He was the man of the family now, after all - _he's not dead!_

James shouted at himself in his head. He could not, _would_ not allow himself to believe for even a single second that his father was dead, not, at least, until there was actual proof.

He was _Harry Potter_, for Merlin's sake. If he could defeat Voldemort when he was seventeen, then he could bloody well survive capture from some pathetic, ex-Death Eater delusional idiots.

Couldn't he?

After all, it only took two spells to torture and kill a person. Or worse.

Drive them out of their minds.

And yet, before James could do anything, he was assaulted by a large mass of red sort of hair, and felt himself being pressed into a tight embrace with both of his younger siblings.

His mother had no idea how good this felt.

His mum was here, she was okay, and she was here, like she used to be, taking away the nasty nightmares from James' head, to banish it from his thoughts, to check under his bed and look in his wardrobe for Death Eaters -

No. James' dad used to do that.

It was as if a damn broke, crumbled into oblivion, and before James knew it, he was sobbing into his mother's shoulder unashamedly, crying for the fact that he might never see his father again, crying for the fact he was being tortured, crying for the fact that his dad was _gone_.

It seemed like an age - or maybe a few seconds - but James did not care. He did not care that he was sixteen, the oldest, or any of that rubbish. All he cared about was the very fact that his father was being hurt - _badly_ - and James could do absolutely nothing at all to help him. He _needed_ to do something, _anything. _

_But he couldn't._

When he finally emerged from his mother's warm, and exceptionally comforting embrace, he saw that her identical brown eyes were shimmering with tears, that they were surrounded with red puffiness, that her skin looked pale, she looked incredibly withdrawn, that her hair was hanging limp and stringy. She looked a state, but who could hardly blame her with all that had happened.

'I suppose you saw the article then.'

James jumped wildly, he had no idea that anybody else was in the room; come to realise it, he had just caught sight of professor Mcgonagall looking suspiciously red eyed, and very, very solemn behind the large ornate desk that had belonged to so many headmaster's and headmistress's before herself, and Teddy Lupin sitting in one of the plush, ruby - and blood, James observed bitterly - red chairs opposite, looking not red eyed, but with a dull and depressing lank hair style that was a mousy brown, and an incredibly gloomy expression on his face. His eyes were the darkest shade of grey, so that they were almost black.

Teddy's bleak, Metamorphagus appearance seemed to highlight the feeling of seemingly every thought that James' family had thought, and undoubtedly how they felt.

'Yeah.' James replied to Teddy, not at all surprised to hear his normally jovial and happy voice morphing into a depressed and dismal, and positively dull tone.

James sat down on one of the plush chairs opposite Teddy, and sighed deeply.

Merlin help them all.

* * *

><p><strong>- Supposed to be a one-shot.. I suppose it could remain one..? Anyway, please readreview/subscribe! Tell me what you think, it's wonderful; Thanks!**

**- Spellmugwump97**


	2. Part 2

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part Two_

* * *

><p>He was sorry. So, so <em>sorry<em>.

He was an idiot. He let himself believe their stupid lies, let them lead him into a trap, and now he had probably ruined his family's lives.

'_We've got your wife and children, Potter. And we're not letting them go, unless you hand yourself over.'_

'_Don't you love them? You would come if you loved them.'_

'_You should have heard the older redheads screams …'_

'_What about little James, and Lily and Albus? Looks like they're going the same way as their namesakes now …'_

'_Come on, Potter! Are you an auror at all?'_

'_You probably couldn't care less about them. They mean nothing to you, _nothing_, clearly …'_

He gasped, as if he had just been doused in icy cold water.

His captor's words mixed in incessantly with his own, clawing at his head, ripping him open.

_Why_ did he believe them? Why? They were ex Death Eaters, it's not like they could be really trusted, was it?

He remembered the strange recording that the ones who had captured him had done. He could not remember the spell, his mind was to mixed up and shattered that he could hardly remember what happened.

He remembered apologising. Saying sorry, trying to make up for what he had done. He had abandoned Ginny, he had abandoned James, Albus and Lily; he had ruined their lives, he had done what he had always vowed not to do; to leave his children without a father.

Because it was inevitable that he was going to die. Of course he was, these people had no reason to keep him alive any longer than they wanted to talk to him, taunt him, torture him.

His thought's crumbled into oblivion as he heard the door creak open, and he tensed his hands together as much as he was able.

It had been two days, and with no food or water, he was feeling so light headed and weak, it was simply all he could do to stop himself from collapsing at the feet of his captors, he had to show he was strong. For himself, for his family, and even for his captors; they could not know that he was slowly breaking, slowly shattering, that his mind was already cracking under the near constant strain of Cruciatus curses being thrown at him left, right and centre.

So many people would have broken ages ago, but not him. He had seen so much pain in his life that he could hold on to his sanity, and life, for much longer than most people. He had even resisted screaming in pain for the first few times, but then the dam seemed to split right down the middle, and he was a sobbing, screaming wreck.

He refused to plead yet, though. He would never beg.

The man - he assumed that he was a man, but he could easily be a woman. He had started contemplating whether or not these people were even _human_ or not though, recently - walked inside of the small and cramped cell that he was in and closed the door, making the so, _so_ beautiful light that had previously glowed through the gap in the open door cut off with an almighty bang.

The person - maybe he should call these people "it"? - walked to where he lay with such measured steps, such powerful and slow and careful steps that it almost made him shout out in terror.

Because he was so, so _scared_. He would never admit it to _anybody_, not even Ginny, but he was so, _so _petrified.

He could sense the person raise their wand, and he clenched his fists and locked his jaw and scrunched his eyes -

But it was not enough.

He screamed more than he had ever screamed in his life, he felt his bones almost creaking under the toll of the curse, he felt that Basilisk venom fermenting and infecting every single pore in his being, knives where ripping into his flesh, and gouging bits of him out, and pins were stabbing him all over his body -

But he _had_ to stay.

_For James._

_For Albus._

_For Lily._

_For Ginny._

Even for the people that were not here anymore; because did he not swear to them, every time that he went on a mission or did something dangerous, that he would never, not for many years, rejoin them?

He promised them this time, and he was _not_ going to break that promise.

* * *

><p><strong>- That was depressing to write. I know it's really short, but I felt that I had to include some of what Harry is feeling; to show how bad it really is. I don't think words can really justify just how painful the Cruciatus curse is, but I did my best.<br>Thank you for the amazing response too, my replies to you lovely people are below. Please read/review/alert!**

**-Spellmugwump97**

**AleydisEcho-** Wow, I didn't know I could even draw that reaction, but thank you for the compliments! I did make it a longer story though, but it will be no more than about six chapters long, promise.

**sick-atxxheart-** Thank you! Yes, I have continued this. I agree with you, I just have to carry on, it's got to be finished.. and preferably with an amazing rescue, but nothing is set in stone just yet. Harry's children have got to be strong, it's in their blood, in a way. And, having their father as Head Auror, and the famous Harry Potter; it's going to be fairly dangerous, I suppose**.**

**Rachel Weasley 99- **Well, I suppose, here it is. I really hope you enjoy it!

**Hunter of Slytherclaw- **Have I told you that you're great?Because you are. And hyper? Me too! Thank you so much though!

**Rebecca Calzone- **Well, I've continued it, as you can see. Thanks, and I really hope you like this chapter.

**HP MY LIFE- **Here it is, I hope it's all right. More action next chapter though, I promise!

**Siriusly Remmy- **Thank you so much! And, I just couldn't bring myself to stop this story. I still want to know whats going happen! It will be no more than six chapters long, though. I don't want to drag it out too long, because then it loses it's interest factor. Thanks again!

**MuggleHarry16- **Thank you! Here it is, I really hope you like it.


	3. Part 3

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 3_

* * *

><p>James was a wreck.<p>

Of course, he knew that the state he was in was probably nothing compared to the state that his father was probably in right that very second, but James still cried, still hardly slept, still hardly ate, still slipped lower and lower into the aggressive and desperate clutches of the monster that threatened to take him.

He knew that his family was worried about him. He knew, he was not completely taken unawares of what was going on around him everyday, all the time.

People were constantly whispering, pointing, sending him those loathsome pitiful looks that James could not stand.

However, after a time, he found himself not caring much about it anymore. Not caring about _anything_ much anymore.

His marks were slipping; he was top of the year for the last few pieces of Transfiguration homework, but now, he was bottom.

The teachers were sympathetic, however. They did not call on him in lessons, when he had that oh-so-obvious red eyed and pale and sallow complexion. They left him be when he got a terrible mark on his latest piece of homework, or could not seem to remember that they even had any homework for that lesson. For that he was grateful.

Neville, or professor Longbottom, as they were supposed to call him in school, was quite worse for wears, too. His lessons did not consist of much actual learning, more dappling in whatever sort of plants took your fancy, or just standing around and not paying much attention, chatting with your fellows.

As Albus' godfather, Neville was very close to the family, and he tended to watch out for the three of them, generally little things that seemed to warm James' heart, even though the gestures were small. Little pats on the back, encouraging smiles.

Neville's face too had the same sort of depressive and ill look about it, he did not look like he got much sleep, and when he smiled, the grin did not seem to reach his eyes. They were more like grimaces anyway.

Albus and Lily too seemed to be falling into a state of emotional and physical disrepair. It was strange that for the three fairly different but strangely sometimes identical personalities seemed to all fair the same way in situations like the given one.

They all sat, every evening, in a lonely corner of the Common Room, not generally enjoying each other's company, due to the fact that none of them actually spoke or made an kind of contact with each other, sitting in silence, thinking their own thoughts, thinking about their father, and the kind of horrors that he was probably facing right that second. That was, until, Lily went to bed, and then eventually James and Albus. That was the only time that they made contact; murmured goodnights - although each of them undoubtedly knew that those were straight out lies.

As if James had a nice, peaceful, relaxing, good nights sleep. He dreamed of his father being tortured endlessly, killed in front of his very eyes, until he woke, and bolted upright, and realised that it was a dream - until, in his cold sweat, he realised with a dry sob that that was probably happening in real life, too.

Every morning, when he saw Albus and Lily, he knew in an instant that they were having the very same night time labouring that he had every night, too.

Sometimes, James felt so, _so_ angry at his father. Why did he have to go and get captured? Why did he have to fall into a trap? Why? Why? Why? Why? _Why_?

But then, James felt angry with himself. How could he even _think_ that? His father would never leave them intentionally, he would rather die.

And then James was hit with the horrific truth. His father was probably dying for them right this moment. And then James felt so desolate, and so _alone_ and desperate, that he just wanted to shut himself off from anything and everything_._

Even Quidditch had lost it's spark, for James. He knew his father would not want him to stop everything, to put everything on hold because of him; but James simply could not help it. His father was a constant, he was _always_ there, willing to talk, or just be your company for whatever reason and at whatever hour.

And now, he was gone.

And so, James found himself trudging along the corridors of Hogwarts, on the way to his Defence Against The Dark Arts lesson. Fred was walking beside him, and even he, the normally most frivolous out of all of the Weasley and Potter clan - and there was a lot; enough to populate almost half of Gryffindor, anyway - was in a very sombre mood. It seemed, nobody had the heart to be happy anymore. Even Hogwarts was quite downtrodden; Harry Potter was such a good, light, _constant_ for all of them, too.

The war hero.

The auror.

The world-wide celebrity.

The modest man, who hated leading, and yet was so very good at it.

He lead a nation into a whole new world, even if he would never realise, or admit it.

'Today, we're going to be doing a bit of recapping - Boggarts.'

James was in his lesson? He looked around blearily. Yes, he was. Fred was sitting beside him, groaning rather half-heartedly along with the rest of the class, at the professor's - James could not even remember his name anymore - announcement.

The professor no-name talked a bit more about Boggarts; of course, James knew, and had retained quite a bit from his earlier years of his education, and even in his current state, he still remembered a lot.

Before James knew it, he was lining up amongst all of his classmates, waiting for his turn on the Boggart.

Suddenly, he felt nervous. James Potter, nervous about facing a _Boggart_. But, then again, he had no idea what it would turn into, what his _new_ deepest fear would be. He had a pretty good idea, though.

His used to be a Dementor; like his father's. Fear of fear itself, in essence. He dreaded what the creature would morph into this time. This was probably the only time in his life that he would ever, _ever_ wish that a Dementor would just show up. At least, instead of something else.

And then, James found himself right in front of the monster, and it was making a slight whirring sound as it whizzed between shapes; a tarantula, clowns, china dolls, a banshee, and -

A dead Harry Potter.

All around the room were looking on in anticipation, some with slight reservations on their faces, like the teacher and Fred, mostly people that were closer to James. When they saw what the Boggart had morphed into, there was a moment of silence as all looked at the grotesque scene in front of them.

James' father had a trail of ruby red blood dripping from his mouth, and his arm was splayed out at an awkward angle to his side. He was wearing some old, worn and faded auror robes, that were rippling all over his limp and lifeless body, and his legs were spread, his torso was twisted over slightly so that his arm - the normal shaped arm - reached out on the floor towards James. Damp, vivid red spots of blood littered James' father's floppy body, but his eyes were by far the worse. They were so _blank_, so _lifeless_, peering out unseeingly from behind the wire-framed glasses - one frame of which was cracked - looking, _staring_ at James in a was that James felt like it was _his_ fault that this was happening, that the state of his father was his own fault. His eyes were no longer the sparkling, shining emeralds that James had come to know and love, as had so many people in the room. They were dull, lifeless, beseeching and so, _so_ unrelenting in their unwavering, blaming gaze.

James' breath hitched as he saw the sight, and he hardly even saw the slightly green faced professors face, hardly heard the screams and yells from the people behind him, and he ran from the room, dropping his wand with a clatter and striding off to - well, he had no clue.

* * *

><p>James ended up in his dormitory. His hangings were closed, so that he almost felt shut off from the world. As he wanted to be.<p>

He heard the door opening and closing, before a whispered voice sounded.

'James?' It was Lily, and he could already tell that she was teary eyed - she was so very easy to read, like her older brothers.

The curtain was pulled back, and James was suddenly painfully aware of the state that he was in. His eyes were red and rubbed raw, his face pale and sallow apart from the red circles that surrounded his normally sparkling, but now temporarily dulled. He was curled up, his arms draped loosely around his shins, his wrists too slightly red and raw looking because he had been holding them for so long - not that he was aware how long he had been sitting there.

The curtain was pulled back, and it revealed James' siblings, Albus and Lily. They immediately got onto his bed, regardless of any sort of problems that he might have with it. He had none, and he most definitely needed the support.

'Your wand.' Albus said, handing it to James. He did not even need to query or question how Albus had gotten the wand; Fred had probably picked it up after he - very cowardly - had run off and out of the class.

'You're not a coward.' Albus said, looking at him deeply with his eyes. Lily nodded in agreement, nestling into he shoulder and giving him a one armed hug. Albus held his other shoulder, and looked at James, and then Lily as she spoke again, her voice soft and comforting. James barely had time to register, fathom how Albus had seemed to read his mind, or how Lily was even his dormitory.

'You're really not, James. Anyone would have run.'

For some reason, his siblings' comments and agreements made him feel so much _better_. They were probably the only people that he could ever relate to properly in this kind of situation. They were the only ones who really, _properly_ understood him, and so therefore could be the only people that would ever be able to reassure, or make him feel better in this kind of instance.

James may annoy his siblings, and act like they annoyed him, but, he knew, truthfully, and they probably did know too, that they were the only people that he would ever allow to see himself in this kind of state.

'Cheer up, James.' Albus said, with a weak grin on his face, eyes slightly puffed up and red.

'We Potter's stick together.' Lily continued on from Albus' trailing sentence, and the James knew that things were going to get better.

He had his family, and they would be with him every step of the way.

* * *

><p><strong>- There was a great response to the last chapter! Fifteen reviews already! Thank you so much! Please, readreview/subscribe. It means the world. Also, I estimate about two chapters or so left. Maybe more, if I decide to do another from Harry's perspective.**

**Should Harry and his captor burst into a) Hogwarts, b) the Ministry, c) the aurors come and save Harry, d) or, another original idea. Please, suggestions are much appreciated and welcomed!**

**- Spellmugwump97**

**AleydisEcho- **Tadaa! I do like writing Harry. I'm not sure it the need for it will arise in future, though. But, please, tell me what you'd like to happen, and I'll certainly try to incorporate it. Thanks!

**Rebecca Calzone- **The Cruciatus must be terrible. Thank you! I would write from one of Harry's friends point's of view, but I want to keep to James and Harry, really. But, it's always a good idea should I need it, thank you for the suggestion! What do you think of the above question?

**Hunter of Slytherclaw- **Aww, thank you! You're amazing. It's great - well, sort of - that I'm making you nervous. I wanted this to be not predictable, or not too much so, anyway. James and Al and Lily and everyone are going to have a pretty tough time, I can tell you that now! Thanks for the Cruciatus comment. And, thanks for the rant, it's good, don't worry about it!

**Punzie the Platypus- **I love your name.. now the story! It's great that you're reading this, if you don't normally read next-gen, thank you for reading! It's very much appreciated. Thank you so much! I thought Harry would definitely get into a couple more scrapes, being an auror and all. I wondered.. and here we are, I suppose!

**Rachel Weasley 99- **Well, here it is! I really hope you like it. Thanks for following it!

**Winged Quill- **I know! I feel absolutely evil. Thank you so much, though.

**kwidditchfan- **Oh yes, definitely. There will almost definitely be at least two more chapters.


	4. Part 4

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 4_

* * *

><p>Who was he?<p>

He remembered two little black haired boys. A red haired little girl … and every time he thought of them he felt the same sense of love and grief. They must be important to him. He would not be feeling the same gut wrenching pains in his heart, had he not have clearly loved them so inexplicably.

And then, he remembered a woman. She had red hair, like the little girl, and had sparkling, happy brown eyes that he just wanted to stare into. She must mean a lot to him, too.

Sometimes, he saw random flashes of green light, and he knew that that light could mean nothing good; the way he felt whenever he saw it. Anguish. Despair.

He did not even know his name, and nor could he find it in himself to try and find it, in the depths of his ravaged mind. Not when he was in constant, excruciating pain.

_Gin_. There it was, again. Why were his thoughts constantly rewinding, retracing their steps back to an alcoholic drink? He had no affinity with Gin. Why was he always - what was Gin? A drink? Or was it a food …

He could not make sense of his scrambled mind. He had no clue of how long he had been in here, where he was, how he had gotten here … the only thing that he truly, _truly_ remembered clearly was one word -

Crucio.

That word. _That word_. It brought a sudden surge of terror pulsating through him, and it made him lock his limbs to brace himself - even though that action hurt excruciatingly.

He thought, perhaps, that his leg was broken. Well, probably more than just his leg. More like his whole body. And his mind. And him.

That was when he wondered. Was he important to the world? Or was he just some other random person?

For some strange, inexplicable reason, he felt as if he _wanted _to be a nobody. He could hardly fathom his own wants, needs, loves, hates, but all that remained of him were these little feelings, hunches, that gave him the scattered clues towards his lost, long forgotten personality. His ghost of a person, a personality.

He heard a clatter, and then a squeal of rusty hinges, as the heavy wooden door opened up, letting some light leak in through the crevices.

A man walked in, and look at him almost speculatively as he surveyed him. He saw a wooden stick in the hand of the man, the man was garbed in silly black robes, and then he felt a sort of icy surge of terror, the same type as whenever he heard, or thought of - _that word_.

He clenched his weak, limp hands into fists - or as much as he could, anyway - as the man walked leisurely towards him, staring at him - or, at least he thought that he was; for he was wearing an eerily, almost glowing white mask - all the way that he walked towards him.

The cell - dungeon, really - that he was in was so small, that the man seemed to be leering over him by the time that he was just two small steps away from the place where he was curled up - all dignity was now long forgotten - and he was so very thankful that the man stopped when he did. He might not be able to contain a flinch if he got any nearer.

'Potter.' The man said, presumably by way of greeting.

Potter? Who was Potter? Was that - was that _him_?

He blankly stared up at his captor, and he could almost feel his eyes go glassy, mist over. He thought, vaguely, that he might look quite insane and dreamy, with his eyes fogged over like this; but he could not find it in himself to care. This was his natural state. He was probably insane. The only thoughts and feelings that kept him going were those images of that red haired woman - and the little red haired girl, and two boys. Sometimes, a woman with brown, puffy hair emerged thought foggy nothingness that was his mind, as well as a red haired man. He seemed to feel happy, when they visited him.

Did they visit him in his dreams? He did not know, nor could bring himself to think about it, to mull it over in his damaged mind.

This was all one big, long nightmare to him. He just wanted go to sleep, for the final time, and leave it all, to sink into that final, blissful abyss.

Meanwhile, the stranger in the creepy, unyieldingly _black_ clothes and presence, was talking, and it was not until something was thrust into his burnt and uselessly weak hands that he had the heart, or the embodiment to listen.

'I wonder what the world will say, when their _hero_, their _saviour_ -' the man snarled, and spat on him with an alarming amount of fervour, as though he had wanted to do that for years. He did not notice though, for he was covered in so much grease and slime, muck and dirt. Not that he really would have cared, anyway. He got the feeling that he might of, once upon a time, but now, with his brain undoubtedly turned into a mushy sort of substance …

'- has been turned into a _vegetable_.' Continued the captor, cackling wildly, sounding enraged, hysteric, _insane_.

That was the last thing that he heard before he suddenly felt like he was being sucked into some sort of excruciatingly tight tube, his bones, - the ones left that were not already broken - felt like they were going to shatter, his head pounded, his body trembled -

And then, he was on solid ground once more, though it was soft, comforting, and a delicious breeze whipped through his disgustingly dirty hair, and he fell back against a cold sort of stone, barely noticing its glowing white pallor before he leaned over it and wretching.

He did not get sick; he had nothing left in him to throw back up.

Leaning back against the cold stone, he blearily glanced at the writing etched upon them; he had to squint - he seemed to be missing something that he could not remember, something that should be perched on the end of his nose and surrounding his eyes.

_J - James_? He could not remember where he had heard that name before, and why it meant so _very_ much to him, held such a strong place in his exhausted heart.

He barely had time to register, and recognize the _Lily_ carved into the unrelenting, glowing white stone, before he sunk into an abyss of darkness, not knowing whether he would ever emerge from it again.

* * *

><p><strong>- Due to the fact that so many people liked the Harry perspective, here's another one. Thank you for your comments! I should have probably given you more time to say your opinion, but I'm sort of trying to combine them. Phew.<strong>

**WHO DO YOU THINK CAPTURED HARRY?**

**Please read/review/subscribe. It's so brilliant! Warm and fuzzy and all.. By the way, google the Blob Fish. I'm not even joking, that fish is real, and the coolest - if most weird and creepy thing - you will ever see. I guarentee it.**

**- Spellmugwump97**

**Punzie the Platypus- **Thank you! James, Albus and Lily are going to be so close, they just have to be, especially in the times like they are in now. Who do you think the Death Eater is? I'm incorporating the 'bursting into Hogwarts' idea, don't worry. It just may not necessarily be with the captor..

**Page-394-Always1- **I'm not even joking, I love all of your guys' names. 'Turn to page 394.' LOL. What the world needs is a Snape SatNav. 'Reverse or do a U-Turn, you ignorant buffoon.' Anyway, the story. Thank you, I spent ages trawling the internet for one of these, so, I just decided to write one! Thanks, again. As you can see, I've gone with your idea, but the other two will come in, though slightly modififed to fit with the plot. Hope that's alright with you. I see, and agree with your cliche comment.

**MuggleHarry****16- **I'm incorporating Harry's saving! Do not worry! I completely agree with you, Harry definitely needs to _be_ saved sometimes, too. Well, here it is! Amazingly quick, too, may I add!


	5. Part 5

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 5_

* * *

><p>When his eyes opened, he was suddenly struck with the bright, gleaming sunlight that fermented his eye lids.<p>

It was beautiful.

He knew that he had not seen sunlight for so very long, because of the way that his body relished in it's warmth, in its warm and soothing embrace. The light and heat just seemed to encase his, caress him, as he absorbed it so very avidly, hungrily.

But, then, the hurt hit him.

He cried out; the amount of pain was unbearable. One of his legs, - he did not think to care too much which it was - was throbbing endlessly, whilst the other seemed to lie uselessly by his side, as if it were completely disjointed from the rest of his being.

His arms felt shattered, his skull surely had a hole punched right through it, his torso was strangely warm but had a distinctly sticky feeling to it.

But, the strangest and most terrifying thing about it was that his body refused to move.

He tried everything; clenching his fist, twitching his little fingers - but, nothing would work. Nothing would _move_.

He did not know how long he lay there. He wondered idly if he was somewhere important, meaningful, whereas the other half of the time he simply stared aimlessly into the sunlight, as if willing it to consume him completely, finally, irrevocably.

He was slipping.

Slipping into that dreamy, haze filled world, so that he would constantly gaze into nothingness, glassy eyed, slack faced.

He welcomed it. He saw no reason to stay here, in this mindset, in this place. What was the point? He really had no reason to keep himself going.

The dream world had no pain. No strange images of black haired, and red haired, and bushy haired people. No wondering who, what, where how.

He _longed_ to drift off.

And so, he let himself.

James was walking along the little lane that led to Godric's Hollow. They lived on the outskirts of the little village of his grandparents' murders, of the start of the war, of James and Lily and Sirius and Remus and Tonks' graves.

However, James still found it ever more unnerving about the fact that that was _his_ name upon that tombstone, as well as his younger sister's. They all did.

But it was painful, thinking about death. In the school, the very subject of death was a taboo subject.

James no longer really thought about anything other than his own misery. He _knew_ that he should lookout for his brother and sister, but he just could not bring himself to take on another person's problems as well as his own. He did not think that he could deal, cope, manage with his own depression and depressing thoughts as well as somebody else's, even if those other, not-so-stranger problems were his siblings'.

Everything before seemed to be so _pointless_ now. So _meaningless_. How could he have really worried about his next Potions test, or when his next Charms essay was due? Whether girls fancied him, what that weird look that some Slytherin gave him meant.

What was the point, if his father was dying out there? Probably dead?

There was none.

Why must his father have to endure all of this suffering in his life, only to finally have a peaceful life for a few little, meaningless years before the were so cruelly and callously snatched away from him? He had endured so much pain, and suffering, that James felt like he did not even _deserve_ this peaceful, happy life that he lead, where the most important thing was scoring the next Quidditch goal, or whether Gryffindor won the house cup or not.

And so, he found himself meandering along the lane, in the dying light of the afternoon that seemed to tease his dismal and oppressive mood with its happily twittering birds and bright, beaming sunlight.

James was going to where his namesake had died, where his own name was engraved into glowing white marble.

He wanted to make himself feel _guilty_. He wanted to scold himself, to do what his father would inevitably do to him, were he still alive.

James shuddered.

It had been a month, though it felt like years. He knew what his mother and Teddy and McGonagall and Kingsley were all planning when they ushered him out of the heads office after being given permission to go home that day, on a Saturday, just to have some peace and quiet, some thinking and alone time, away from the loud and rambunctious halls of Hogwarts.

Albus and Lily had complained half heartedly, but then both resigned themselves to rejection and went to find their own quiet places within the Hogwarts grounds.

Albus had nestled himself in the cool shade of a little Sycamore tree that lay on the edge of the banks of the lake, whereas Lily seemed to find comfort and solace in the petting of the old and weathered Fang just outside Hagrid's cabin.

None of the needed to know where James was at the moment. They could go and wither in the depression that they all felt, or organise memorial services and funerals.

James just wanted to make himself feel like he was repaying his father just a little, by forcing himself to go and see his own name carved into a headstone, to see his own, much rather than he would see his father's.

As James closed the little kissing gate that stood quaintly by itself, he started towards the marble headstone with not a small amount of foreboding. He could feel every muscle in his body tense and coil as he neared the horrific sight before him, the very one foreshadowing his own father's death, and funeral -

_But who was that slumped by their grave?_

James broke into a jittering and considerably shaky run towards the slumped figure, hoping, praying that it would be the person that he wanted it to be, but also pleading with all of his heart that it was not the person that he supposed - the condition of the person was getting gradually worse as he got nearer.

It was a man. James knew that from the lean sort of figure that the person had, buthe could not know for sure _who_ the person was.

It looked like - but he could not be sure, unless it was there.

And, true to form, there it was. The scar that changed everything was upon the man's forehead, though slightly to the right, underneath matted tendrils of hair that were matted resolutely with slime, dirt, grease, and - it made James' stomach churn.

James' father's eyes were closed, small lacerations littering their surrounding skin, which, James realised with a sickening jolt, were probably where the trademark glasses had been shattered, with the little pieces embedded into his skin.

Blood - it was _everywhere_. All over the broken body of the man that had raised James. Here was his father's body, dead, and shattered and broken right underneath his fingertips, and James could do nothing to help, nothing to comfort, heal or help -

James let out a gut-wrenching sob as he rested his head upon his father's broken, almost skeletal, hardly breathing chest -

_Hardly breathing?_

Not letting himself believe it, James lowered his head onto his father's jittery chest once more, letting his own tears congeal with the muck and dirt that was layered almost an inch thick upon his father's chest.

There it was.

A faint, jumpy, weak little heartbeat was slowly pumping the blood around and out of the body in which it resided, and even though his father was in the state that he was in, even though the state that James' life was in, James smiled weakly and watery, glad for the fact that his father was actually alive, that there might be even the faintest, slightest, slimmest glimmer of a chance that his father would be _okay_.

_There was hope._

* * *

><p><em><strong>- <strong>_**Fun fact: 'Sycamore' is a play on words, - Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, not me, I'm not that clever - As 'amore' is like the french word 'amour' which means love, and the first bit of 'Sycamore' is pronounced like 'sick'. Love-sick, get it?  
><strong>**Anyway, sorry about the slightly longer wait than usual, but I have been extremely busy these past days. Only a couple of parts left now!  
><strong>**I love all of you amazing and brilliant people who have reviewed and favourited and alerted. They mean the world to me.  
><strong>**REVIEW/SUBSCRIBE/FAVORITE! **

**- Spellmugwump97**

**Hunter of Slytherclaw- **You're on to me. Sort of. Argh! Harry's capture is going to affect loads of people, because he's going to mean a lot to a lot of people. I like to think that people feel that he is like a beacon of hope, you know? So, I suppose that they would feel helpless if Harry Potter can get captured, anyone can, sort of thing. Yes, I definitely reckon Draco was jealous of Harry. His friendships, for the most part. I think that Crabbe and Goyle were not really 'real' friends. More, sort of, bodyguards, there for show. And I really want to own a Blob Fish! I'm sorry, but they really are THE coolest creatures on the planet.

**Punzie the Platypus- **Thank you! I really hope Harry hangs on too, to be honest. I have a very vague idea about where this story will end up, but hey, things change..

**page-394-always1-** Oh, write a story! Do it, do it! I'll review. Anyway, thank you so much! I do not want Harry to end up like that either, it's worse than death. Here it is, I guess, the helper. I hate writing the Cruciatus curse, but I like writing it at the same time.. does that make me a psychopath?Ahaa, whenever I hear 'Gin', I think of Ginny from Harry Potter, and then the drink, but in reverse for when I hear 'Gin' in a Harry Potter context. Yeah, I'm weird like that. I suppose, here the next chapter is, so I really hope that you enjoy it!

**Rebecca Calzone- **I definatly agree with the fact that he would not bring captives into the Ministry or Hogwarts. Harry is far to self-sacrificing for that, I think. I'm desperatly trying to incorporate Harry escaping into this, as it was my original plan; but as the story progressed, I just felt that he was, and is, just too weak, and close to death to escape.. I'm trying to include escaping into the plot though, so any ideas are very much welcomed.

**MuggleHarry16**- Poor, poor Harry. Thank you, tohugh! I'm afraid, not in this chapter. And I doubt the next either! I'm so evil. Sorry! Who do you think it is though? I have a pretty good idea of who Harry's captors are, though.. I suppose we'll all have to wait, soon as I'm still debating too!

**insaneInsania**- Same here! You don't have any good ones like this, do you? Thank you, though! Glad that you thought that this was good, too. It was in my original plan to have Harry escape, but I feel that he is just to weak and injured. A month of constant pain both mentally and physically will both take their toll on a person. Anyway, you people are on to me with your guesses to who the captor is.. keep guessing, they're brilliant. I also definitely see your point with the Malfoy's, and I really despise anyone who has ever hurt Remus Lupin. Namely, Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov. Grr. Here it is, and I hope that you enjoy!


	6. Part 6

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 6_

* * *

><p>James did not know how long he kneeled there; it could have been seconds, hours, days, minutes - and yet, he did not care.<p>

His dad was here. _Alive_. Nothing else mattered in the world.

The man who raised him, bought him his first broom, - despite the annoyance of his mother - wished him luck when he first went to school, applauded him when he got into Gryffindor, was _here_ and _alive_ and -

Bleeding. A lot. Far too much.

James rose his head slightly from his father's chest, and looked down. Deep red was seeping from a wound that James could not immediately see, as well as some other places that James did not have either the time or inclination to try and locate.

Suddenly, James' forehead and left side of his face felt very hot and sticky.

James felt sick. His father's blood, _his blood_, was plastered all over his face. That was _sick_, and _wrong_, and _repulsive_ and a whole lot of other words that James could not think, nor comprehend in his and his father's current state.

Panic struck him. What if muggles came along and saw him? Smeared with blood, kneeling over what most certainly looked like a corpse - James let out another unrestrained sob.

_Why_ his dad? What did he do? All he had _ever _done was sacrifice himself for others - and yet, others kept on wanting to kill him, and someone up there really seemed to want his father dead and buried six feet under with everyone else that he had ever loved too.

_Why was it so unfair?_

James was fully ready to wallow in despair, and leant his forehead back down onto the bleeding patch on his father's sodden chest. Perhaps it would stop the bleeding? Physically? Or, maybe his hoping and wishing and praying would come to_ some_ sort of conclusion.

A full month of pleading with whoever was in charge of his father's life - clearly, they still were not doing a very good job of it - should amount to _something_.

James heard a few leaves of an old and withered oak tree from behind his grandparents graves flutter on the ground, and James almost envied the way they just breezed by -

_What was he doing?_

His dad was here, and alive - and what was he doing, exactly? Weeping on his chest unrestrainedly as his father bled all over James and out onto the warm undergrowth? He should be doing something, _anything_.

James hurriedly jumped to his feet, and looked around with what he was sure was a wild and frenzied look about him. His head whipped around, almost dizzying from such activity after so long letting the blood rush to his head from kneeling down low, and just as he was really, _really_ starting to panic, something clattered onto the soft earth below him, creating a strange twanging sound that James had never heard before, nor could he comprehend before now -

_The two-way mirror._

Not believing his luck, and grinning for the first time that he had in months so that his mouth ached madly, James ceased the mirror, and shouted into it with unnecessary valour and loudness the very fist person that popped into his head -

'Teddy Lupin!'

And then James waited, for a few, agonizing seconds that seemed so much longer than they really were, the only sounds that he could hear were those leaves whispering on the ground, sullenly now, and the soft breeze ruffling his hair and the trees all as one, until a rather strange rustling sound was heard, and then -

'James?' Teddy's face appeared into view; depressed, haggard and tear streaks running down his cheeks, with floppy, thin and lifeless mousy brown hair straggling into his face.

'Are you okay? What _happened_ to -' Panic was written all over his face, as he clearly was just now absorbing James' scary looking appearance, or so James assumed, what with blood being smeared across his face, with dirt and tears that were still falling mixing in.

'Don't worry about me! I've found him - dad!'

Teddy's face froze into a kind of blank, shocked look, as he processed the information that James was telling him.

But, it appeared that Teddy was feeling very pessimistic on his outlook at that moment in time, - and who was James, really, to blame him? - and so it was with the next words that had James in a rising panic.

'Ginny -' Teddy said, turning his head to the back of the mirror, presumably to crane his neck around to talk to James' mother.

James caught a flash of the headmistress' study behind the back of Teddy's head, and realised, with a sick sort of jolt in the pit of his stomach, that they were probably planning a memorial service, a funeral.

'James, he's found -' Teddy's voice cracked slightly, and it sounded as if - though muffled from James' point of view - Teddy was trying not to burst into tears at that second, 'H - harry's body,'

No. No, no, no, no, _no_. _Not _a body. A _real_, and _alive_ person.

'No! No, Teddy! Dad - he's _alive_ -'

But Teddy did not seem to be listening to James' ravaged and disused voice, pleading with him from the mirror. He seemed to be continuing on with talking to his mother, and whoever was beyond the other side of the mirror that James could not see, deaf to James' pleas.

'I don't know what sort of - _condition_ it's in, but -'

'Teddy! _Teddy_! He's _alive_ -'

Now, it was his mother's voice, and she was clearly sobbing for all she was worth - a very rare occurrence for his mother, but something that James expected all the same. The state that the whole family was in …

'I - I'm sure we can make sure he - looks like _him_,'

James' mother burst into another round of tears, and then he heard his uncle Ron's voice, shouting out from somewhere in the room, sounding like he was about to break down into tears just like his younger sister, too. James thought he could hear his aunt Hermione sobbing too, somewhere that he could not see.

Some other voices shouted out, and James recognised some of them as members of his family, and others he did not; but then, the noise got so almighty, that James suddenly snapped, and loudly.

'DAD IS NOT DEAD!'

A couple of birds screeched, and flew out one of the many trees that surrounded the quaint and peaceful little church and graveyard; but James could hardly care less.

The mirror suddenly jolted violently, as if it was the result of somebody dropping it in a sudden moment to shock, - which, James thought, it probably was - and then James had the sudden view of his uncle Percy, his face tear-stained and solemn, red eyed and with a very upset aunt Audrey hanging onto his arm, half of her teary face obscured and out of the mirror's view.

Before any person on the other side could even say a thing, utter a single jittery breath, James spoke once more; not shouting, but in a kind of urgent panic.

'Godric's Hollow. We're in Godric's Hollow. The graveyard. You'd better -'

James stopped and looked over his shoulder at the rapidly alarming and growing pool of ruby red blood seeping into the undergrowth, some even staining the perfectly white marble of James' grandparent's tombstone. James turned back with an urgent, rapidly feverous eyed look about him.

'You'd better come quick, he's losing a lot of blood.'

The mirror clattered to the floor, and James hoped, hoped with all of his heart that everything would be all right again, as it was before.

He turned to the bright, now darkening evening sky, and said, aloud to whoever might be listening;

'_Please.'_

A sudden whisper of the wind ruffled his already messy hair, and, to James, it sounded almost like a promise.

A promise of better times to come.

* * *

><p><strong>- I know that not much actually happened in this chapter, but I didn't want to rush. If you're wondering about Percy.. I think he and the family managed to heal, over Fred's loss. I reckon that they're all really close; and all the inlaws, too. Reviewsubscibe/favourite!**

**- Spellmugwump97**

**Liza Cobbler- **Sorry, not much happens in this chapter, but the action is coming in the next one! Glad you like it :)

**Winged Quill- **Maybe, maybe not.. it certainly sounds like it though, doesn't it? *wink wink* Thank you! They just, sort of pop up, and I just secribe the scene.. but, thanks, once again!

**page-394-always1- **Thank you! Cliffhangers, you hate them, but, sadly, you have to have them! I usually just think of the character, but then I realized that there was a drink called Gin a couple of weeks ago, and the I just thought, 'I'll add that to the story!', and, yeah.. hey, my mind works in weird and strange ways. Yes! Please do post a story! Do message me if you do :) Ha! '(as always)' *snort*. Sorry. Always? Sorry, weird things make me laugh. Here it is.. or was? Either way, I hope that you enjoy.

**Hunter of Slytherclaw- **Thanks :) Thank the lord they found him too, huh? :)

**insaneInsania- **Cliffie, necessary, - Can't spell that word, thank you, spell check! - but hated.. urgh. James, I know! Poor kid :'( Can't be easy, having the BWL as your dad. Here it is, and thank you!


	7. Part 7

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 7_

* * *

><p>James could only hope, wish, pray that his family would get here in time. He knew that this very moment, they would probably be sprinting through the grounds of Hogwarts, trying to get past the boundary line of the great castle so that they could apparate here.<p>

He was holding his father's beaten and broken body to his chest, with a shaking, now ruby red slathered hand tightly compressing the seeping wound on his father's chest, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood, to make it _stop_.

His dad was _dying_. And James could not, _would_ not allow that to happen.

He had been through so much; could he not pull through one last time?

James was snapped out of his very morbid thoughts by a loud _crack_, that made him jump violently as the sound jostled the increasingly cool, silent air surrounding and in the little church yard.

His head whipped up violently, and he was about to draw his wand from his back pocket, when he saw that Teddy was slowly making his way towards James and his Godfather, ambling in a disorientated way that was clearly the after affects of disapperating quickly and without much thought, and also panting hurriedly that clearly showed that he had simply sprinted madly through the Hogwarts grounds.

'James! James - where -'

'Teddy!'

Teddy's head seemed to force its way out of its previous disorientation, and he somehow manoeuvred his staggering body towards the spot that was occupied by James, his dad, and the rapidly spreading puddle of warm, red and sticky liquid, constantly seeping and emanating from James' father's extensive and dehabilitating wounds.

When Teddy got closer and closer to James and his father, James saw his eyes widen almost comically, as he saw the very state that his Godfather was in.

Just a foot before Teddy reached touching distance, he collapsed onto the ground, still panting, still swaying, staring in horror at the state of the man that was practically his own father as well as James, Albus and Lily's.

'Oh _Merlin_. Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin …'

Teddy let out a dry sob, an action of which seemed to startle him back to reality, and James saw the almost business like look in Teddy's eye completely envelope that raw panic that had consumed the then cloudless blue eyes just moments before.

With Auror-mode now turned on and fully functional for Teddy, Teddy looked at James, and James knew almost automatically, so much so that it startled even himself, what Teddy was about to ask, or command - but James knew that there was only really one place that his father would be completely comfortable in being in this repulsive state.

'Hogwarts. We're taking him to Hogwarts.'

Teddy looked momentarily confused, and James could almost already see that look in his eye, the sort of look that adult's got when they had to let down a child very gently, easily - but, James was particularly adamant about this fact, of his father's delivery to Hogwarts in this condition.

'James, I really think that Saint Mun -'

'_No._' James said, startled at the sudden severity of his tone.

'Dad was only ever comfortable with Madam Pomfrey. You _know_ how he's like with other healers. And, if - if something happens -'

James' airways seemed to stop, and he let his words taper out, allowing the three of them to be eclipsed into a brief solace of silence.

Teddy looked at James, eyes now a fierce violet colour, and James looked right back at Teddy. He seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion, though, because when Teddy next looked back at James, he sighed, and was wearing a very hesitant and reserved expression.

'Fine. _Fine_.' Teddy sighed. 'We have to be quick, though, James. I don't even know if he should even apparate in this condition -'

'Let's go. The sooner we get there, the more chance of dad -'

James lapsed once more into silence, as they both pondered and mulled over the very horrific thought of all of this effort, and pain, and loss - to only finally get to safety and care, for James' father's life to be whipped, snatched away from them.

And without any more words spoken, Teddy suddenly grabbed a hold of James' arm, and any other time James would have jumped out of his skin, but now he was either too tense, too petrified, or too exhausted to care about being jumpy or paranoid.

With a sudden _crack_, piercing the little sleepy church yard for a second time that day, James and Teddy and their father and Godfather respectively, where whisked away towards Hogwarts, towards oasis.

Disorientated and stumbling, James and Teddy, - Teddy with the unconscious and very bleeding reason of why they were even here in the first place - had somehow managed to get to the gates of Hogwarts without splinching themselves, and James had the sudden thought to congratulate Teddy on that fact, hopefully later on, when times where better and less dense and dark.

Looking behind him, James saw that his father was, indeed, safe in the cradling arms of Teddy, though Teddy was much to preoccupied with trying to staunch the seemingly ceaseless flow of sickeningly ruby red blood now squelching more harder than ever from James' father's chest. It seemed that apparating had most definitely aggravated the ever-seeping, never-ending wounds that littered his father's body.

And then, James was faced with an even more desperate problem.

_How was he supposed to get into Hogwarts?_

The gates were locked tight, and James now had enough knowledge to realise the fact that the amount of wards made it impenetrable, impossible to get in -

And yet, James still reached forward a quivering hand, his last hope, or thought, for what else could he think to do? The bloodied limb shakingly edged it's way towards the gates of the great and famed school, the winged boars majestically surveying him, making him feel watched and under pressure - but then, something happened, making James jump back in both shock and amazement, and making Teddy shout out in surprise and warning of what was not there -

The gates opened of their own accord, Hogwarts welcoming her tiresome and injured former and current students, something, this fact, forcibly reminding and comparing the school to his own grandmother.

James was snapped out of his amazed reverie, to find Teddy levitating his father beside him, hanging like some sort of sickening puppet, head lolling aimlessly on his bleeding chest as he lay on some imaginary, floating kind of sick bed.

'You - you'd better go up before me,' Teddy said, looking at James in the utmost sincerity, purple eyes boring into chocolate brown, 'because you need to tell them all that we're here, with your dad. Okay?'

At James' barely perceptive nod, Teddy gave him a quick and light push, pushing him over the boundary line of outside the school and inside it, and shouted after him as James went, sprinting up towards the castle, not appreciating its captivating beauty before now, this time when he needed to notice it the least;

'Get Albus and Lily too, James! Get them!'

Of course he would get them, James thought.

They were family. And what families did best was to stick together.

And didn't James know it.

* * *

><p><strong>- I've had my laptop taken away for the past week, so I was, most unfortunately, unable to finish off writing this chapter until last night.. sucks for me! I've broken up for two weeks of Easter holidays, now, an I hope that I'll be able to complete this by the end; however, I have had copious amounts of GCSE coursework heaped on me, including a French oral exam to learn off by heart.. wish me luck! And, I'm also going on a shotgun trip to Devon for a week tomorrow, booked today. As you may have guessed, my family life is quite.. spontaneous;) Basically, I wouldn't depend on my hopes to be actual promises, my life seems to like chucking things my way that get in the way of writing, *cough*GCSE's*cough.<br>No matter; I SHALL PREVAIL!  
><strong>**Massive amounts of love and chocolate to all of you wonderful people that have subscribed, reviewed and favorited. You're amazing! **

**- Spellmugwump97**

**Hunter of Slytherclaw- **Please, don't even get me started on an AVPM or AVPS rant, you would get grey hairs by the end of it! One thing, though; 'Did somebody say, DRACO MALFOY?' Ha. Anyway, thank you very much. Ginny didn't go with Teddy, though; I think she was in too bad a condition to go. He's at Hogwarts now, though.. an element of safety? Thanks, anyhow:)

**Flame Rises- **LOL. I should find this really offensive, but I don't. It's just far too hilarious!

**Punzie the Platypus- **Oh My Wizard God, Mighty Rowling, I DON'T WANT HARRY TO DIE EITHER! Thank you, I love the idea of Teddy being as much a part of the family as James, and also I love the idea of the Weasley family, despite the enormity of it, is actually really very close. Reminds me of my family, in a way. The mirror! I know; Wildly convenient, too;D Was that an AVPS reference there too, I see?

**IFlipForHarryPotter- **So do I! Next chapter here, though.

**page-394-always1- **Sorry! They just splurge out, like word vomit:( Tear-jerker? Woah. Didn't think I could do that! Oh, your story; read it, really good! :D *hides behind hair and blushes* My stories aren't even that good.. I just write because I have nothing better to do! Yes, you are awesome. It's like, Snape is ingrained into your mind; you just use quotes from him without realizing it! Woah. Anyway, I now have a pretty good idea of who the captor's are, - unlike before:S - out of interest, who do you think they are? I'm kind of glad that this wasn't too obvious, if you get what I mean. It's always good to have a bit of mystery, I think! But, maybe that's just my love of mystery novels and my gene's from my detective of a dad.. huh. Here it is! I'll try and update as soon as possible! :)

**insaneInsania- **Yeah, cliffhangers. Evil little buggers. Or, probably big, if you think about how annoying they are.. anyway, SORRY! I know. AVPM quote sums it up perfectly; 'I'm the boy-who-lived, not the boy-who-died. Duh.' Ugh!


	8. Part 8

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 8_

* * *

><p>James had never run as fast as he did in those few minutes, panting and tiring but never stopping, his legs moving at a constant, break-neck speed.<p>

It was not as if he could even attempt to stop, though. His legs kept moving, his heart kept pumping, and still, he continued running, full pelt towards the grand and ornate, _giant_ oak front doors of the castle.

James hoped against hope that they would remain open; or at least not locked. It was funny how something so mundane, insignificant, minute in his life before hand, something that he had never even given a second thought about, could be this important, at this time, this later date.

If James looked back, - which he did not, and could not do too often whilst he was sprinting up to the school manically - he could even vaguely see Teddy, and in tow, his limp and lifeless father emerging, but it was clear that Teddy was struggling with floating James' father along like some sort of freaky, mundane marionette with it's strings cut.

James' dad was persistently drooping, and ever so often was jostled towards the ground as Teddy's attentiveness wavered in either the effort, or the stress of hoisting his scarily vacant Godfather along, and up towards the school.

Before James could get within even an arms reach of the grand doors that he was sprinting towards so very avidly, they burst open of their own accord, and withdrawing his wand, James approached those that were emerging from the entrance with no less speed, but plenty more caution, though it was hardly needed when he realised who they were.

'James!' James' mother shouted, as she stumbled out of the great castle, followed very closely by James' uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, Hermione's face red and streaked with hours old tears, Ron's face in not much better condition, with red eyes that looked as though they had been rubbed viciously and repeatedly for quite a long time.

Behind his mother and both Godparents, James vaguely saw his Uncle George, looking pale and so serious that he looked nothing at all like himself; and expression only ever seen on Victoire's birthday, which was, incidentally, the anniversary of the war.

Just in front of the sombre looking George, was a sprinting uncle Bill, running with his bright hair whipping around, looking already tousled, as if he had been running his long, callous fingers through it very often and very repeatedly in a short amount of time recently.

Alongside him, was a weepy looking aunt Fleur, and although she seemed to be gliding along as per usual, with the help of her Veela roots, it was very clearly apparent that she was distinctly lacking her former grace and charm.

Then, most surprisingly to James, as he just saw over the tangled redness that was his mother's hair, as she threw herself at him with enough force to make even James' grandmother topple over if unready for it, - which James invariably was - was James' uncle Charlie, his face uncharacteristically worried, a strange expression to grace the face of the uncle that was widely considered in the Weasley family, as the coolest, - excepting, of course, when that said one cousin learned of the war, and that was when, to James' smug pride, it invariably became his own father, for a short amount of time, at least - and his hair was strangely ruffled, but that could be just his latest style.

Bringing up the rear, was James' uncle Percy, who's face looked incredibly pale, like the living dead, and his face looked as if it had been permanently crimped.

Clutching onto his arm was his wife, James' aunt Audrey, who was looking very tearful, and who's face looked utterly desolate.

Just jogging behind Percy and Audrey, was finally James' aunt Angelina, and although her face seemed to be much less shocked, scared, or anxious and horrified, it was partially covered with her hands, but what you could see of her face, looked completely in shock, her eyes widened in surprise of the events that were evidently happening.

'James, James, James, James, _James_ …' James' mother was repeating, a strange sort of mantra, into his shoulder. By the time all of the other's had gotten, and surrounded James and his sobbing mother, she was lifting her head from his now sodden, black robed shoulder, and straightened up. However, before she could even utter a single word, or even draw a single breath, Hermione spoke, in a stuttering, watery sort of voice;

'James, where - do you know where T - Teddy and -' she stopped, and paused, and Ron pulled her closer to his side, as everybody else lowered their head and gaze to the floor, almost as if they were already in mourning. It gave James the fierce desire to shout to them, to make them snap out of it. It was not over yet! His dad was _here_! _With_ them! Hope _was not gone_. Not yet.

Hermione took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and spoke once more, her voice strangely stronger and more, _resilient_ than before.

'H - Harry are?' she completed, looking for all the world as if she were about to break down absolutely, and in torrents and floods of tears.

All of them looked at him mutely, and, worse of all, hopefully; James did not want to be the bringer of bad news. _Don't shoot the messenger_, James thought, rather wryly.

Even his mother had lifted her head from his shoulder, and stepped away, into the hold of uncle Charlie, who was the only one free apart from James; unmarried as he was.

James turned to the direction of which he knew that Teddy was coming with his father, and nodded, just as mute as the rest of his family, solemnly grouped around him.

'They're there.' James said, quietly, though none of his family had any trouble in hearing him, in the quiet, and, James was shocked to see, the gradual darkness that had, at that moment, turned to the foreboding dark dusk, the bright moon highlighting the people and landscape of Hogwarts.

James' mother turned around, and let out a strange sort of shriek as she saw, vaguely in the distance, the floppy mousy haired head of Teddy, and, even though he remained stationary, - James assumed that Teddy had decided that it was more of a hindrance than a help to try to transport his vacant Godfather to the castle, and seemed to settle for simply, or not so, trying to staunch the blood flow - and lying on the ground, a messy, and though you could not see it at this distance, the stubbornly black and messy head of hair that belonged to James' father; a head of hair, that was currently matted with blood, but the same hair, - or bird's nest, as James' mother so fondly called it, even when she complained about it and tried to comb it into submission, there was still a glimmer of love for it in her eye, if you looked closely - that he had passed down to both of his son's.

James stood motionlessly, in a daze, almost, as his collective aunts and uncles sprinted towards the two distant bodies of his father and God brother, and he hardly noticed that one more person was standing behind him, until their hand reached out and clapped him slightly on the shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, but James jumped all the same, and spun around, his wand already in his hand - but he need not have bothered.

'It's just me.' Charlie said, holding his hands up by his head in a surrender. It would have been amusing, and done with a smirk, had the circumstances not been so terrible, horrific, dire.

'James.' He said, his face solemn and serious, each of his calloused and scarred, ravaged hands after working with fire breathing reptilians for so many years, clutching each of James' shoulders in a vice like grip, his blue eyes boring into his brown.

'Go and tell Al and Lily. They need to be here.'

Looking at him for a moment, he gave James a sad smile, and then clapping James on the shoulder, he jogged of towards the rest of his siblings and in-laws, leaving James to pause for a moment, taken aback by the sincerity and sudden change of events, before sprinting back up to the great oaken doors that he had never reached on his long run up before, the short distance taking no time at all with his absence of shortness, and now longer and lean physique that he had developed in the last two years of his life.

By the time that he had emerged into the entrance hall, eyes wild and looking reverently through the crowd that was spilling continuously from the Great Hall after dinner, trying to find his younger siblings in the mass of different coloured heads of hair and sea of black, heavy robes.

'Al! Albus! Lily!' James called, hoping for the very best that his shouting would somehow reach his younger siblings, through the loud bustling crowd.

James started pushing his way through the crowd, ignorant of all of the protests and shouts of annoyance, only having eyes for his brother or sister, desperately trying to seek them out in the flood of students around him.

'Al! Lil -' James stopped, when a red haired person interrupted him, frowning in either anxiousness or, disapproval. Though, knowing of whom it was, it was probably disapproval.

'James!' Rose said, her face showing her emotions just as much as they coloured her voice. 'You were _supposed_ to be here for dinner! Albus and Lily were _petrified_ that something had happened to you! You should _think_ before you -'

'Where are they? Rose, where are Al and -' Rose looked fully annoyed at being interrupted, and she opened her mouth to speak once more, before being interrupted again, by another person.

'Where's who?' Roxanne said, looking interestedly at the two of them, seemingly James' flustered state had piqued her interest.

'Albus and Lily!' James said, flustered, his cloak flapping as he raised his arms in exasperation.

'Oh my _God_!' Molly shouted out, as she saw what was beneath his fluttering robes. '_Why_ are you covered in blood?'

'Who's covered in blood?' Louis said, strolling over after excusing himself wit a charming smile to the small gaggle of giggling girls that were just surrounding him.

Frustrated by his cousins, James was about to demand to know the whereabouts of the only two people in his family, - or, it felt like - who were not currently pestering him, but he was yet again interrupted by yet another red haired Weasley.

'Blimey, James! We leave you for a few hours, and _this_ -' But Fred did not have any time to complete his sentence, as James shouted out, in anger and hurried panic -

'WHERE ARE ALBUS AND LILY!'

A shocked silence reigned over James' red headed cousins, as they all looked at him, in shock, and affronted looks. Two petrified Hufflepuff second years and a squeaking first year Ravenclaw scurried out of the hall, and James looked around in desperation, desperately trying to seek out his brother and sisters, before he heard, to his great relief, a very familiar voice from behind him.

'_Where've you been?_'

Albus walked from behind him, and whacked him too hard to be a friendly, brotherly hug, but not so hard as to harm him too badly.

'Lily's been near tears all through dinner! You _can't_ do that! Not when all this stuff is happening with dad -'

'You idiot!' Lily came up behind him, scowling and glaring at him, though through suspiciously watery eyes. She hit him hard on the back, but it was clear that she was not putting very much feeling into it.

'What's this, Weasley family reunion? And just _why_ wasn't I invited?' Hugo had evidently arrived, and he was casually strolling along with his long hands in his pocket, grinning unabashedly, with no recognition of the current situation, showing about as much tact as his father would have.

James was, once again, about to initiate some sort of conversation with his siblings, preferably not involving any of the others, and to be very quick and to the point that he had been trying to make for the last five minutes, before the arrival of the final Weasley cousin that was at Hogwarts.

'Hugo! Well, _thank you _for that gracious apology for knocking me over earlier! I know you've been trying to avoid me all - wait, what's with the family reunion?'

Lucy stopped in the middle of her rant at Hugo, - a fact of which he was very glad of, having continuously trying to hide behind a very amused Roxanne and annoyed Rose, who had pushed him a few steps even closer to the angry and then getting increasingly sarcastic Lucy - and looked around in surprise at the alignment of all of her cousins that were still currently attending Hogwarts.

'None of _you_ lot need to be here.' James snarled, not caring about the hurt and affronted looks that his cousin's each respectively gave him.

Turning his back on his cousin's and towards his confused looking brother and sister, his worry returning as he saw their expectant expressions.

Both looked tired, and upset. Albus' eyes were suspiciously red, and Lily's hair looked as if she had not brushed it properly for weeks. She probably had not, James thought, just like the rest of them. They were all wrecks, really. Even James' cousins looked rough; they were a very close family, and so James, and probably Albus and Lily too, could easily detect the signs of hurt and worry and anxiousness behind the bravado's that their cousins all put up around them.

James heard the quiver behind Rose's reprimands.

James saw the twitch of Louis' finger whenever James' father was mentioned.

James looked straight through Hugo's apparent carefree attitude.

James recognised the reason behind Lucy's sudden bookish nature.

James caught the sighs drawn from Molly.

James detected the brief flickers of worry pass through Fred's eyes.

James realised what the spells of brooding anguish from Roxanne were for.

James knew that they were all hurting. Grieving. But he could not allow them to come too, this was something that only he, Albus and Lily could do. This was their _dad_.

'I found dad, in Godric's Hollow,' James said, snapping out of his reverie, and evidently startling the rest of his family, who were still, to his great annoyance, gathered around James and his siblings like Bee's to a honey pot. James ignored the exclamation and shout of his cousin's as he carried on telling Albus and Lily the events of the day, and watching their faces get even more pale and sickly as he carried on, watching Lily recommence her tears again, and Albus' furious eye rubbings.

'Me and Teddy - we got him here. Everyone else, except from Dominique and Victoire are outside - uncle Charlie asked me to come and get you. He's - dad is - quite, erm - he's not the best, so just - sort of, _prepare_ to be shocked by what you, er - see,'

James stopped, and cursed himself for his own idiocy. He really was an idiot. "Not the best"? And what a way to tell them. They probably did not even understand what James was trying to even say, by his rushed, almost unintelligibly quickly said wording, but Louis had stepped in at the last moment, his once cheerful face now sombre, and creased into a very tight frown.

'So, what you're say is … uncle Harry is out _there_,' Louis pointed a finger towards the doors, 'and so is practically _all_ of the rest of our family?' Louis looked disbelieving at the knowledge of all of his family being within the castle right under all of their noses.

'Well, then,' Fred said, his face set in a mask of a strange sort of stone, 'we'd better all go out there then, shouldn't we?'

Murmured agreements echoed through all of the people gathered around, excepting James and his two younger siblings, who were both, apparently, in shock, at the fact that their father was actually _alive_, and _here_, _with them_.

As Fred and Louis led the procession out of the doors, silvery head bobbing alongside red, James shouted out in protest of their actions.

'Oi!' Fred and Louis turned around, Louis' perfect eyebrow cocked inquiringly. 'You're not supposed to go too! It's only meant to be me - and Al, and Lily! He's our -'

'And he's _our_ uncle!' Rose said, turning around with ferocity in her eyes, interrupting his sentence before the ending that they all knew exactly what it would be.

'We have a right to go too, you know.' Molly said, quietly, watching James and his siblings slightly.

James looked at all of their expectant, and petulant faces, and finally gave in, panic settling comfortably over his annoyances with his brilliant, but ever the more so overbearing family.

'Fine.' He said, sighing, dragging Albus and Lily along with him to the front of the large and extensive group.

'But _we're_ going first!' James said, admittedly quite immaturely, again, and he did not even notice the little smiles that the rest of his cousin's shared with one another, as he turned and sprinted down the sloping lawns of Hogwarts, not even noticing whether or not the rest of his cousins were following him or not, though if he had of opened his ears a little more, he would have heard nine different pairs of feet thumping and pummelling the ground underneath them behind him.

When they were within sight distance of James' father, could really, _properly_ see the damage that ravaged his body, James did not realise that the rest of his cousins and siblings had fallen back in shock and horror.

All he did, could do, was to carry on sprinting towards the body of his father, so near, so _close_ to death, even though his lungs were screaming at him to collapse to the ground, his legs aching and burning in a fierce fiery exhaustion, but he had to keep on running, he _had_ to -

That was, until, he ran straight into something very large, and very huge.

'Hagrid!' James shouted, looking up from where he lay on the ground to the greying mane of hair that belonged to his father's oldest friend.

'James!' Hagrid said, hoisting him up, as he too looked over to where James' father lay, surrounded in a pool of his own, sodden, ruby red blood - surely there couldn't be much blood left in him now … he needed some sort of special potion, and fast, but by the looks of things, James' uncles and aunts could not move him to the warm and comforting, blinding whiteness of the hospital wing …

'Yer dad - he needs to get up to tha' castle, don't he?' Hagrid was looking over and James' dad and then back to James again repeatedly, so fast that it was making James' head spin.

'Yeah,' James said, rubbing his arm in the location of which Hagrid had gripped it and yanked him up, 'but I don't think they can get him up to the castle by magic -' James said, but his sentence tempered off, as he saw Hagrid striding purposefully towards the mangled body of his father, scattering various uncle's and aunts as he went.

He reached down, and was about to pick up the body, before Hermione said, with hesitation, and in a very quiet, meek sort of voice;

'Hagrid - are you _sure_ -' but Hagrid interrupted her.

'I carried him outta tha' forest twenty odd years ago, an' I'll carry 'im again now, Hermione. Nothin' you do is going ter stop me.'

And with that surprisingly forceful comment form Hagrid, Hagrid lifted James' father with a surprising amount of ease for his age, but not so surprising for his size, and began striding towards the castle, one of his long strides matching up to about three meeker ones of James' mother as she walked beside him, clutching James' father's hand.

Had James of looked back when he continued on jogging to catch up with Hagrid, back up the way that he had sprinted down to meet his father, he would have seen the deathly pale sort of faces that de ja vu can indefinitely bring.

* * *

><p><strong>- Phew! Long chapter. Happy Easter! I felt guilty for going on holiday for a week, so I went absolutely mental with writing this chapter. One more chapter to go! And an Epilogue, too. Blimey, to think that I actually thought that I would do this in a one-shot. Chuckle. To think that I could do this in five or six chapters. Chuckle. Silly, silly past me. I hope you enjoy!<br>By the way, writing this makes me feel like I did when reading the final chapters of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I was like; 'Oh my God. Don't die. _Don't you go and DIE Harry Potter_! He's going to die, _He's going to die_.. PLEASE, DON'T DO IT! Hang on.. what.. What the hell? Dumbledore? Isn't he dead? Wait, what?' **

**- Spellmugwump97**

**IFlipForHarryPotter- **Thank you! Here's the next installment, I hope you enjoy!

**Punzie the Platypus- **I LOVE AVPM/S. Hyperventilate no more! The next chapter is here! Sorry about the cliffie's. I think I'm addicted to them:/ Enjoy!

**insaneInsania- **I love the Easter holidays! *happy dances with you* Stalk no longer! Part 8 is here! Hope you enjoy it! I felt very, very guilty for the wait last time, and taking off to Devon once more this time.. but, writing this made a five hour car journey much better! Another cliffie on this chapter, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.. I don't know how anyone wouldn't like AVPM, to be honest;D Thank you for the luck, I'll need it:S Oh, GCSE's are.. they're tests in England, - where I'm from, obviously - that take two years at the end of your secondary school education, aged from about fourteen to sixteen. They're really big. I don't know what the equivalent is, for where you're from, but I know that some people call similar test's 'finals'. 'GCSE' stands for 'General Certificate of Secondary Education'. We also have tests when we're in our last year of Primary School education, aged ten to eleven, called SAT's. I think 'SAT' stands for 'Scholastic Aptitude Tests', or something like that. Hope it helped! Hope you enjoy the chapter:)

**page-394-always1- **A mini Snape is just too _ awesome_ to comprehend. (See what I did there?) Guessing is good, I didn't want it to be too obvious.. good guess, you may just be pretty close to the truth. Unfortunately, due to my evil nature, you won't be able to find out who Harry's nasty kidnapper is, though, I would look back for a seemingly non-important little phrase in.. part 5, about half way down? Sorry, that's probably confused you even more. It'll make sense at the end, promise. Thank you! Warm fuzz galore! I think, when you're that injured, you want to be somewhere that you actually like.. I for one, detest hospitals with a passion, so when I broke my wrist and had to have an operation, I practically started crying when they said that I had to stay in over night. I think Harry has a certain fondness for the hospital wing, now that he's older, and so I think James is somehow thinking that hi father will get better quicker, - he refuses to believe that he could possibly die - if he was somewhere that he actually likes. In reality, if this would have actually happened, they would have taken him to Saint Mungo's, bu,, for the sake of this fic.. More next chapter! More detailed reactions, too. Hope you enjoyed! And I hope my idea's were all right. I have an over-reactive imagination, not that you can tell.. _at_ _all_;D

**ZebraPotter18- **Thanks! I'm surprised that I can do that, it's brilliant. Well, not the crying part, but.. well, you know;D I hope he lives, too! Sooner than the last update, this one.. well and truly guilt tripped;D Enjoy!

**Hunter of Slytherclaw- **Thank you! I love James, I think his thoughts are sometimes so light, but then his dad's brooding comes through and then they're really dark and depressing. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I can't believe this story's almost over! It feels like my baby is moving out or something random!

**Squishy Squib- **Thanks! The Blob Fish.. don't get me started. So disgusting, it's cute! Your name sort of suits it..;D


	9. Part 9

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 9_

* * *

><p>Even though the hospital wing was inexplicitly blinding with its whiteness and sterile air, it still seemed more cosy and comfortable for one to stay in, even though you would not ever of presumed it, without going to the place and seeing it with your own eyes. After all, that was what hospital wings were for. To recover in comfort and peace.<p>

The moonlight was reflecting, echoing, off of the smooth tiles and withered old castle ceiling and walls, with chunks of stone still gouged out of it from the battle so many years ago, but still resonating throughout the old and weary halls of the grand school and castle that had educated so many of the country's population.

A comforting stagnancy held the air and feel of the room, but not for long, as the room was once again about to enjoy the company of yet another member of the Potter family - the very same family that was designated their very own hospital bed in the room.

James marched into the room, ripping the doors apart with a once untapped ferocity, jogging into the centre of the room, calling for the person that was able to heal his father, whilst the very same person was being carried along like some rag doll, just a few minutes behind James' sprinting steps.

'Madame Pomfrey!' James shouted, looking around in a hurried and feverish panic as he searched for the woman that had so often been the bane of his Quidditch-injury related memories.

'Madame Pomfrey! Where - Madame -' James ceased his calling as he saw the stern nurse hurry into the room, tying the ribbon of a dressing gown in haste as she closed the door behind her, eventually sighing in resignation and exasperation as she saw of whom the voice belonged to.

'Potter! And just _what_ are you doing here at this time? And _why_ are you covered in blood -' She barked, her face creased into a well worn scowl, her greyed hair haphazardly scraped up into a bun that was falling down her back.

James, however, noticed a slight softening of her eyes, despite her apparent annoyed exterior. He liked to think that Madame Pomfrey had a special soft spot for Potter's, especially in the current situation that they were now in. After all, they did have their very own family sick bed in the hospital wing, and it was more often than not, filled with one of the three Potter siblings currently residing at Hogwarts.

'It's dad!' James shouted, not caring that it was in the evening, or that he was disturbing the silence so very loudly.

Madame Pomfrey, who's hands were previously concentrated on fixing the loose tendrils of hair back into a prim fashion that she had always worn it as, froze slightly for a moment, and then locked themselves down into two different positions; one was over her mouth, of which James was almost entirely certain was in a round "O" shape, and the other was positioned over her labouring chest, heaving along with her lungs in the exertion of the surprise and exhilaration of the situation. James was, too, running only on adrenaline. Without _that_, he surely would have collapsed into an exhausted heap hours ago.

'_What _-' Madame Pomfrey had begun, her hand leaving her face by about an inch, although her voice still sounded muffled and as if it were just slightly breathing out.

She did not, however, have the opportunity to complete her shocked sentence, as, bustling loudly down the corridor of the school, and the doors swinging open with an almighty bang, was James' father, floating along grotesquely, followed by James' uncharacteristically sobbing mother clutching his hand in an, - ironic as it sounded - death grip, as well as James' Godparents, with the whole of the rest of his family in tow, except from his grandparents.

James was shocked to see that both Victoire and Dominique had appeared too, and both looked just as bad as James probably felt and looked; shaken and bloody, with tear stains and rubbed raw, red eyes.

A moment of piercing silence injected into the atmosphere, all frozen whilst they all seemed to be trying to comprehend the current situation that they were all in, before everybody excepting James and Madame Pomfrey began talking loudly, and at the very tops of their voices.

James watched in something akin to amusement, had the predicament not been so dire, as his family, noisy, rambunctious, hot-headed and opinionated, battled for their voice to be heard over the rest of them, for them to have _their_ say on what _they_ thought should happen, or help with James' father.

'QUIET!' Madame Pomfrey shouted, causing all of James' family to stop their bickering in surprise. The only person that did not cease their previous actions was James' mother, and Teddy, who were respectively sobbing and trying to comfort the other.

'Do you honestly think that this is going to help him? You should be _ashamed_ of yourselves!'

James' family had the decency to look so.

'Now, I suggest you all move _out_ of this room, so that _I_ can get to work on healing him!'

Madame Pomfrey pushed her way through the crowd of mostly red heads, and made her way to where James' father lay on a stretcher that had been conjured by one of James' family members at some point.

She gasped, and James saw her eyes tear up upon the sight, and her hands clasped in front of her, onto her chest, but a second later, it was gone, and she was shooing the rest of them out and levitating James' father onto the nearest possible bed available. It was, coincidentally, the "Potter" bed.

Teddy lead a sobbing Ginny Potter out of the room, and James' mother seemed to be far too upset, hysterical to even begin to protest. James caught the gaze of his younger brother, Albus, and they shared a sudden moment of grief and understanding. And then, the moment was gone, and Albus nodded grimly, his eyes tearing up slightly, but he occupied himself with leading out of the room a sobbing Lily.

'Potter!' Madame Pomfrey barked, just as James was leaving the Hospital wing to begin the long and perilous wait outside, the door in his grasp, of which he had to stop from swinging back and hitting him in the face once she had called him.

'I shall need somebody to pass me potions and instruments.' She said, rather stiffly.

James froze. He, quite simply, could not believe his luck. She, Madame Pomfrey, was allowing James to stay, and to help her to heal his father. Why James? What did he do? He knew that he had stormed into the hospital wing first, but, really, Albus or Lily were in the exact same position as he, or why did Madame Pomfrey not ask an adult, or James knew that his Aunt Hermione had read plenty about healing -

'Well?' Said the already bustling Madame Pomfrey, collecting an armful of potions and dumping them haphazardly into a large sort of basket beside James' father's bed.

James, being forced out of his reverie, moved forwards, towards helping his father, towards the already red stained, once pure white bed sheets, towards Madame Pomfrey, and, ultimately, towards helping Madame Pomfrey, his father's, and now _his_ decision of whether life or death best suited James' father in this current, devastating, predicament.

'Give me the Blood Replenishing Potion, quickly.' Madame Pomfrey snapped, and James fumbled, breaking out of his reverie as his arms scampered around in the little basket stuffed full of vials, turning them over with shaky hands, twisting them, looking for the correct little bottle -

James extracted his arm with great difficulty, as he clutched the small bottle of bright blue liquid in his left hand, his other gripping the side of the basket for support, for throwing himself into the wooden basket full of the potentially life-saving potions and concoctions -

He handed the bottle hastily to Madame Pomfrey, and she seized it avidly from his hands, prising open James' father's mouth with her other hand as she tried to tip the blue liquid into James' father's mouth, trying desperately to save him, for without blood, there would be no hope -

'Antiseptics!' Madame Pomfrey barked, but this time, James was ready, and this time, James thrust the small green jar into Madame Pomfrey's just barely waiting hand, with no time to think, he barely had time to move his hands forward and force the potions into the Healer's hands -

A loud and ugly snapping sound fermented the air, and again, and again, as Madame Pomfrey snapped bones back into place, re-breaking some, positioning them, moulding James' father's body back into the way it should be, her caring and firm hands winding their way through all of the crevice's, seeking out the breakages, healing them, the wounds across his body opening up, splaying wide, making James feel revolted and sick -

'James - some cloth -' James did not have time to register that Madame Pomfrey had used his first name, he was far, _far_ too preoccupied with his scrabbling, scrambling hands and fingers, trying to clasp their touch onto the soft white cotton that was the cloth, that Madame Pomfrey and his father needed so desperately for survival, for everything was needed to ensure that life was breathed back into James' father -

Victorious he finally was, after what seemed an hour, his hand shoving the crumpled white linen, not cotton, into the waiting rough hands of the elderly, but still filled with so much life, ironically enough, Madame Pomfrey, and he watched as she mopped up the sickly green paste from the sickly, bloody, and now, James realised it, it had come into light that they were _infected_ wounds, and smeared the paste away and up from the bloody, disfiguring cuts that littered James' father's body, on his arms, legs, face, neck, head, stomach, chest -

'Bandages!' James had seen this rapidly coming, and was ready and waiting for the call, and he threw the rolls, two of them, into the waiting hand of a ravenous and anxiously waiting Madame Pomfrey, and she caught the bandages with some kind of unerring skill, that made James ponder, entertain the possibility that perhaps she was a seeker, much like her current patient, whilst _she_ was at school in that very castle, but it was not long at all before James' thoughts were hurried along, to much more pressing matters -

She wound the beige fabric around Harry Potter with a lightning speed, and all James could do, was _able_ to do was to watch with his mouth wide and disbelieving, as she seemed to weave magic into even the most Muggle of treatments, but then, James saw that she was no longer touching the rolls of soft, beige fabric, that were evidently wrapping themselves around and around, over and over again around the body of James' father, and when they were finally done, his father was nearly bandaged from head to toe, and almost completely unrecognisable -

James watched in a sort of avid fascination, as Madame Pomfrey's hands clasped long and huge needle, filled with a thick, sort of yellow like, pus like substance, and she pressed the end of it, making the revolting liquid splurge out of the top, and then, to James' utmost surprise, she plunged it into the neck of James' father, and he lurched, dangerously so, when the pus like medicine had hit his vein, his blood stream, before falling back down onto the pillows, and his chest moved more smoothly, and his mouth opened slightly, and he moved and writhed no longer, as he had previously been doing during his just previously gone treatment, and Madame Pomfrey mopped her brow, and James just stared.

'He's stable. At least for now. He's -' She looked pained. 'I've put him in a coma. It's the only way for him to not feel pain, especially when I have to treat him. He's got two broken legs, I don't know if you noticed, but one of the bones had punctured the skin -' Even Madame Pomfrey looked slightly ill, but she pressed on. 'His right hand is broken in three places, his skull was cracked, he had one broken and one cracked rib, his collar bone is fractured, extensive nerve damage, particularly in the spinal cord and the legs, and … there's no telling about his mental state until he wakes up …'

James' mind wandered off into the depths of those horrible, worst-scenario thoughts that all people receive after something so horrifically bad has occurred. He no longer listened to Madame Pomfrey's worried mutterings, nor paid attention to her suddenly soft nature; something so very unnatural for the stiff upper lip Healer.

Mental state? James had never really, properly, entertained the thought that his father could very well be … insane. Unknowing of whom his own wife and children were, let alone his boss, or his family-in-law, or his old school friends … the thought was, quite simply too much for James to process, let alone bear.

And the physical injuries. How had James let the fact that his father had a multitude of broken bones, one of which was _sticking out of his leg_, go unnoticed; by himself, at the very least? The very thought of it made him want to physically throw up, in some way purge his body of the thoughts of how much pain his father must have been through, of how very unfair and unyielding life was to him, throughout the entirety of it.

What kind of a son was he?

'Potter!'

James jumped violently, to see Madame Pomfrey peering at him worriedly, though her stern exterior was back, and in full swing.

'I would think that your family should like to come and visit your father.' Her hand gently touched his shoulder as James straightened his back, and began moving determinedly towards the large and swinging doors of the hospital wing that so many members of his family had stayed overnight.

'Only your mother and siblings, though, Mr Potter.' She completed, and gave James a little, stumbling shove towards the doors.

When James emerged through the doors, he looked silently on, registering that his Grandparents and Hagrid, as well as Neville, or "Professor Longbottom", were all here, and James took the small amount of time to survey the states of his family, before they noticed his presence.

His newly arrived Grandparents were both looking distraught, _both_ of their eyes red and puffed up, his Grandmother sobbing into a handkerchief, and his Grandfather gazing, evidently aimlessly, into space, his arm gently rubbing the shoulder of his wife, pulling her close. James' oldest cousins were beside them, and they, as well as everybody else, seemed to have grouped together as siblings and spouses.

Dominique was looking, for the most part, confused; and James could sympathise. He, in all honesty, could not believe that his father had been captured either, the thought was so obscure, and he felt as though he had been walking around in some horrific dream, for the past month.

Louis was comforting Victoire, and was shooting worried looks and glances towards his other, more auburn haired sister, Dominique. Victoire was sobbing onto the shoulder of her younger brother, and, really, it was no surprise to James. They all knew that James' father was her favourite Uncle, however much they all might try to deny it, especially Victoire herself. Once again, James was hit with the thought that his father's disappearance had affected _everybody_. His extended family, the Wizarding World in Britain - even the news had made it abroad too, the world seemed to be holding their breath's, waiting for James' father to return, to come back alive in the spectacular way that James' had depicted for himself from spied conversations and eavesdropping, waiting for the day that he would finally know, when his father would finally tell him all about the Battle of Hogwarts, when he was eventually, finally seventeen, and then, James realised with a horrific jolt, that day may never come.

James got a sudden flashback to the headlines that he had seen, that were now etched across his memory.

_HARRY POTTER: CAPTURED_

_TOUS LES YEUX SUR LA GRANDE-BRETAGNE_

_DIE WELTWEITE SUCHE NACH POTTER WEITER_

_POTTER MISSING: BRITAIN THROWN INTO CHAOS_

_POTTER NO SE PUEDE TRAZAR_

_A ALLAI FOD WEDI DAL HARRY POTTER?_

_MINISTERIAL MEETING AT BRITISH MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_SHACKLEBOLT PRESIDE A UMA REUNIAO MINISTERIAL_

_KUKA SEN TEKI?_

So many different languages, so many people affected … James shook his head slightly, and glanced over to his next lot of mourning family members.

Molly and Lucy, both with the bright ginger hair that could not be eluded at all in one family with Weasley genes swimming in the depths of it's gene pool, were huddled together, seemingly for support, their arms around each other and their heads bowed solemnly. Molly was mournfully stroking the hair of her younger sister, but James guessed at the fact that she was finding it more calming and therapeutic than Lucy herself was. However, Lucy was doing the same thing to her older sister's hand, Lucy's hand clasped on top of Molly's with her thumb gently rubbing the skin of Molly's small hands. Their eyes were watery, an identical watery blue in most of James' cousins, red rimmed, and looking sore.

It suddenly came apparent to James that he and Madame Pomfrey must have been in the hospital wing, hurriedly stabilising his father, for longer than his adrenaline powered, now rapidly burning out brain and mind had first presumed.

Twisting around even slightly more, James saw the first strange sight that he had seen from his cousin's that evening. Of course, the circumstances were all out of the ordinary, for all of them, but most of the others' reactions so far were as he had expected them. Fred and Roxanne's, however, had shocked him the most so far.

Fred was crying. James had never seen Fred cry; the very sight of it was completely alien to him. James did not want to dwell on the tears that were falling from Fred's eyes, he did not want to bring them to his own, but that did not stop him from wanting to, and desperately.

Roxanne was gazing, unseeingly, at an unknown object in an unknown spot, her eyes glazed and raw, her cheeks just as flushed as Uncle Ron's ears were when he got angry, her cheeks just as flushed as her bright red hair. Her dark skin was stained with tear-tracks, old ones, it looked like, and it hit James, once again, that his father's disappearance had affected all.

He felt quite selfish for not thinking about the other's over all of the time that his father had been … away.

Rose and Hugo were sitting with their backs to the wall behind them, Hugo was hugging his older sister with a strong, strong grip, and he looked very close to the tears that Rose was rapidly gaining.

Rose was sobbing into Hugo's shoulder, clearly trying hard to stop herself from sobbing loudly and noisily, and it suddenly struck James that his father was her Godfather, too.

The muffled noises of Rose's hysteria brought pains to James' chest, shooting up him like a stinging hex, because although he and Fred were best friends both at home and at school, they had not been overly close before they had started attending Hogwarts, and they were best friends now, Rose and Hugo held the position of more brother and sister than just that of cousins. As children, they had spent most of their days together, spending hours playing silly, aimless little games, pretending that they were famous Aurors, Dragon Rider's, saving the world from dark and evil wizards, playing Quidditch on the little, hovering brooms that were the only ones they were allowed until they were eight, the small brooms that only hovered one or two feet off of the ground, and the large and soft Quidditch balls with which they played with near constantly.

It was no wonder, looking back, that James' parents and Godparents found their games so very amusing.

Albus and Lily were by far the worse of all of James' siblings and cousin's. He, James, had never even thought, comprehended, that their faces could hold such a large, magnificent amount of devastation. He almost felt himself crumble at their blank faces, desolate of emotion. Tear tracks ran rivulets down both of their faces, and their cheeks, their entire faces, were both pale and completely devoid of any emotion. It was as if they were in a trance. A horrific blur of torture, and hurt and harm.

James felt his protective instinct overcome him, as he looked at his younger brother and sister, Albus holding Lily close and comfortingly, leaning his black haired head atop Lily's dark red one, that was leaning on Albus' shoulder. James might said something, or done something, but a sudden and distraught sob broke him out of it, and he did not have the time to look at his aunts and uncles.

More pressing matters were at hand.

'James! How is he? Is he all right? Stable? Is it bad? Will he recover? What did Madame Pomfrey -'

'Mum.' James interrupted his mother, slowly and gradually easing her gripping hands off of the side of each of his upper arms, her wild eyes looking at him, red-rimmed and tired, exhausted even, her hair all over the place and looking as though she had been running her hands through it near constantly, in the time that James had been absent. Apparently, James and Albus had not only inherited their hair-running-through habit from only their father.

'Madame Pomfrey said that dad is … stable.'

A collective breath seemed to be let out from the mouths of James' family and close familial friends.

'Madame Pomfrey said that you, Al, and Lily, Teddy and me can visit him now.'

Teddy looked up sharply, and said, with a weary voice; 'I'm not family. I'll -'

'Oh no you don't, Edward Lupin!' James' mother said, with fire in her red-rimmed eyes. 'You're just as much of a family member than the rest of us, and don't you forget it!'

And with a fierce look just begging Teddy to challenge her, James' mother grasped the arm of a shocked faced Teddy, and powered through the doors of the hospital wing.

It was then, following Albus and Lily into the hospital wing, and quietly shutting the large oaken doors, that were present all over the huge castle in which they now were, that James was suddenly and abruptly reminded that his mother had both lived through a war, and fought in a battle.

And if she could get through that battle, then she could find the strength, somewhere, to get through this one.

And so could he.

* * *

><p><strong>- Guys, I'm so sorry. However, only one exam left now. Physics. Wednesday. You don't need a rant about how sorry I am, or how many exams I've got. So, I'll carry on and continue on, with some good news.<br>****NEW CHAPTER! IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY ON WEDNESDAY!  
>And.. before anyone asks about Teddy's full name, I don't know, as it was never disclosed officially. However, my Grandad is called Edward officially, but everybody calls him Ted. Seriously, I didn't even know it wasn't his full name up until a few years ago. And, as in England, Edward is a much more common name than Theodore, as it's more traditional, and also Edward is officially shortened to 'Teddy' and 'Ted', I feel there's a pretty good chance that Teddy Lupin's full name is Edward. I think, to be honest, that Theodore kind of just jumped on the 'hey, Teddy sounds kind of like Theodore, let's use that as a shortened version!' bandwagon. No offense meant.<br>The languages, I just felt like putting those in there. Don't really know why, I just did. They probably don't look very good in there, but, meh. They're real, by the way. I think they go something in the order of; English, French, German, American, Spanish, Welsh, Australian, Portuguese and Finnish. HA. Finnish is at the end. It's_ finishing_ the headlines. No? Oh, well. Sorry if they're not any good, anyway. Google Translate, I'm afraid.  
>Erm.. I can't think of anything else. I hope you enjoyed! Sorry it's so late! Hopefully the next part will be up soon, but I've got a pretty jam-packed month and a bit coming up. I WILL PREVAIL. To think that I almost made the rest of the story to be all into this chapter.. silly, silly past me.<strong>

**- SpellMugwump97**

**HunterofSlytherclaw- **Me too, it's almost like my baby! Thank you so much. And.. a very late happy Easter to you too. Sorry:S

**Squishy Squib- **I love the nickname, don't get me wrong! I have one too. Apparently, I look like Professor Trelawney, so I'm 'Trelawney' now:/ Meh. Your mum sounds cool, too:)

**IFlipForHarryPotter- **I am SO sorry! I know, I hate it when there's no updates, but I have had practically no time to write!:( It made me cry whilst writing it too, no problem. You're not alone! I am one for the deja vu sort of stuff. I just find it interesting. It intrigues me. Sounds exactly like Harry, glad you picked it up! Kind of like the deja vu thing above too. 'Why is he always covered in blood?' ;D Yeah, I can imagine the Weasley clan being stiflingly caring of each other, if you get what I mean. As you'll see again in this part, too, I suppose. Didn't believe I could move anybody else to tears other than me, though. That's so.. weird. But I'm grateful. Not that I want you to cry, but.. I think you get what I mean by now, huh? Thank you, and I really, really hope that you enjoyed this part!

**insaneInsania- **Sorry:/ Chapter's here now though!:D You have no idea how lucky you are, really, you don't. I hate GCSE's! I'm afraid that I'm being completely ignorant, and I can say that I didn't take GCSE Geography for a very good reason, (not as bad as my friend though, she thought that London had a coast and put the Alps in Wales on a map. We live half an hour away from Wales, and I've told her all about the fact that i used to live in London, and that I'm from there. Wth? Faceplant!), but I have no clue where those places are that you just named. I'm presuming that they're similar to counties in England? Province's in Ireland and France? Do they have Province's in France? I'm sure they do.. anyway. Geography rant OVER. Only four languages? Is that it? *sarcasm*. I can speak English, (obviously), French quite fluently, and a little Spanish. Meh. Anyway, thank you for your review and comments, I really hope that you enjoyed!:)  
><strong>*ADDED ON FOR SECOND AND THIRD REVIEW*<strong> Stalk no more, for this part is now here! Let the terror-filled boats of writer's block sail off into the sunset! Er.. yeah. Wizard Rock isn't too popular in the UK, but I love it!:D Oliver Boyd and the Remembrall's are THE BEST. I haven't met anybody else that listens to it:'( Well, I have now met you! YAY! I totally want ot do a flash mob! Can't find anybody else ot do it with though!:( Good idea for watching AVPM/AVPS! May steal that for myself, and maybe my friends too when they come over for a sleepover for my birthday on Wednesday too;D Thank you!:)

**Punzie the Platypus**- Thank you, I really tried my best on that. You've got to add the cousin's, with such a tightly knit family as the Weasley's! They're amazing. I want a family like that.. well, mine sort of are. Minus the magic and bright red hair, sadly:( Added madness though;D Urgh, I know, Hagrid. *SOB*. Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed this part!:)  
><strong>*ADDED ON FOR SECOND REVIEW*<strong> Thank you. I don't consider myself a 'brilliant author' at all, but it's so nice of you to say:')

**Not So Sirius- **So do I! I love Harry:'( Thank you, I hope you liked this part!:)

**Page-394-always1- **I'm sorry, that was evil, wasn't it? There will be a massive clue in the next part, or the one after that. Depends how it all goes and flows, you know? HA. IT RHYMED. Ahh, you got me. Planning something? When am I not? Course, originally, Harry and the Death Eaters were going to go into the Ministry and have a big stand-off thing. Then again, this was, originally, going to be a One Shot. HA. Just fell off of my chair laughing. Yeah, I definitely think that Harry would be more comfortable at Hogwarts. It's the place he called home for six years, after all. And the word 'home' means more ot Harry than most people. Ah, you'll get there in the end. Just try to do about half a page each day, and in two weeks, you have seven pages! That's what I try and do usually, but the damn revision.. *sobs manically in the corner*. Sorry about the cliffie! SORRY! I hate them too, I know, I know. *Consoles crying figure*. I cried whilst writing it, ugh. I just thought it was so perfect and everything, and it was almost picturesque, you know. Urgh, getting teary eyed now, sounds weird, but I can literally just imagine it.. NO. Must not cry! Have contact lenses in! Don't cry! Thank you, I'm not entirely sure whether I'm all that good at writing, but I do it because I love writing. I don't know why, I just.. do. Huh. But, thank you so much anyway! Writing five different fanfic's all at once is seriously hard. But, as you say, when the going gets tough, the tough gets going!;D Good count on the 'Awesome' scale. We should just call it the 'A-word', and then we can never say it in a review! A NEW RECORD! Anyway, thank you so much for your amazing review, and I really, really hope that you found this part enjoyable!:D  
><strong>*ADDED ON FOR SECOND REVIEW*<strong> Hmm, All American Rejects.. don't kill me, but I've heard of them, but never heard any of their songs:S YouTube, I'm coming for you after this! I know. Nothing worse than writer's block:'( I think I may do an accompanying One Shot, after this is all over, of Ginny's point of view throughout this, but condensed. Maybe. I do have four other stories, but, hey, I'll give it a go, have a little try. Thank you!

**Mad31lina****-** I know! Hope you liked!:D

**dancer4813-** HA. Short story, I think it may become a mini novel soon, I'm not joking:S Yes, I am so close! Urgh! Damn the Exams and Final Duke of Edinburgh Expedition and Work Experience! Trying my best to get it finished, but I promise you that it shall! Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this part too:)

**E. -** UPDATED! Sorry so much for the wait:( The ending is nigh! Ish. Anyway.. hope you liked this part!:)

**Rose-Phoenix00-** I will never, ever stop this story, EVER. Pinky promise. I hope this qualifies as 'super awesome', but either way, I hope you enjoyed it!:D

**m1347-** I completely agree with you there, exams DO kill all creativity that anybody might have, remotely. Don't thank me, I should be thanking you for staying with me and this story, even after all of this time of being absent! Actually, I am thanking you. THANK YOU!

**4ever Mrs. Harry Styles-** I love Harry and James' relationship too, glad you like it too:) Glad you love it,next update is right here, and I really hope that you like reading it and enjoyed it:D

**The Missing Twin-** That is a very good idea! And I'm glad you like this story, I'm putting so much effort into this, it's unreal. Hope you liked this part!:)

**ImAProudMudblood-** Glad you love it, and I really hope that you like this one just as much too:)


	10. Part 10

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 10_

* * *

><p>The day after he had rescued his father, James was pushing and shoving, and industriously elbowing people out of the way, to get to the doors of the hospital wing. There was crowds upon crowds of people, the word having reached the rest of the Wizarding World that his father was now safe, and residing in Hogwarts.<p>

Of course, the fact that he was in a seemingly endless sleep, with no knowledge of the world around him and probable mental scarring for the rest of his life, was quite unknown.

'Move!' James shouted in frustration, elbowing yet another student out of the way, this one with bright blonde hair.

He scraped his hand through his hair roughly, wincing and losing his anger slightly when his nail dug into his scalp painfully.

'James!' A voice suddenly shouted, from somewhere in the sea of black robes. James whirled around, searching desperately for the speaker.

'James - James!'

James' Uncle Bill was making his way through the crowded hallway, with Fleur positively gliding behind him, though he did not have nearly so much trouble as James did. His scars scared off the younger years, and his famed name and participation in the war effort warded away the older years more than sufficiently. Fleur simply cast a spell upon all of the males that she was not related to in the vicinity.

'Uncle Bill!' James said, surprised to see some of his family here, in the school; he had no idea where they had gone after just last night that he had successfully rescued his father.

'What are you doing here?' James said, once his uncle and aunt had finally reached him. 'I thought you were at home or something -'

'No,' Bill said, steering his way through the crowds of younger years and nearly knocking over a sickly pale green faced sixth year who was lingering despite the hurried mass of pupils surging towards their impending lessons, 'we're all staying in the castle, didn't you know? Can't believe Ginny or Hermione or someone didn't tell you …' his face turned sober and he suddenly appeared much older than James had ever seen him, his lines enhanced and seemingly criss-crossing over his face.

'Zey 'ave uzzer things to worry about, Bill.' Fleur said quietly, speaking for the first time.

'Sorry - we aren't keeping you, are we?' Bill said, jarring to a stop. 'It's NEWT year, we really shouldn't be taking you out of classes -'

'Free period.' James interrupted him, striding ahead of his aunt and uncle and throwing the hospital doors wide open. 'And I've already done my exams.'

James grinned as he walked into the stubbornly sterile room; he could almost hear the eye rolls and chuckles occurring behind him.

The sight of those plain white curtains drawn around the bed at the far corner of the room wiped any hint of happiness or joy clean off of his face.

James stopped walking, halting to a stop as he stared at the place where his despondent father lay.

He did not think that he could do it - sit by his father's bedside as if he was simply sleeping, simply tired from just another raid on just another Auror mission, recovering from just any old injury from just another petty criminal who thought that he could take over the world.

Because this time, James had no idea whether he would wake up.

This time, his father would probably never recognise him again.

Before to intense and overwhelming urge to hit something overpowered him and consumed him, the searing rage the coursed through him at the sick person, whoever it was, that had done this to his family, James' Uncle's arm slid around his shoulders, and began to guide him gently towards the ominous cordoned off area that James was to desperately hesitant to enter.

In silence, the three of them edged through the gap by the wall of the curtains, and slipped into the seats either side of the occupied bed. James was positioned beside the window, watching other pupils of the school enjoy the nice weather without a care in the world whilst James' fell apart with a shuddering thump.

At least he was safe, at Hogwarts. At least they knew where he was. They were the only thoughts that consoled James at the moment.

'I remember when I first saw 'im.' Fleur quietly uttered. 'I remember theenking 'e was a silly leetle boy.'

'Fleur …' Bill said, holding her hand tightly, looking at his wife concernedly.

James, who had torn his eyes away from the picturesque scene outside to look at his aunt as she spoke, still avidly avoiding looking at his father's apparent lifeless body, unwilling for the images from the previous day to seep and sear their way back into his skull, as his Aunt held his gaze despite her husband's words.

'Fleur -' Billy tried to continue, but she interrupted him sharply, still locking eyes with a curious James.

'No, Bill! I was an 'orrible leetle girl. I was so … _vain_, why, I thought myself to be so very clever for being ze Beauxbatons champion; 'ow could a fourteen year old _child_ compete weeth me?' She finished bitterly, with tears pooling in her clear blue eyes, the same eyes that help James captive to hear more of the story. Bill tried to stop her, but his protests were pointless. Fleur looked as if she had been holding this in for years.

'But eet was 'Arry zat saved ma petite soeur! Not me, 'Arry! It was 'e zat won zat blasted tournament. Moi - I couldn't fight off some puny Grindylow! My seester could 'ave _died_!'

'Fleur, they weren't really going to leave them there -'

James wished his Uncle would stop, he hadn't received this much information or detail about his father's exploits ever before.

'But 'e steel did eet!' Fleur exclaimed, crying and shaking. 'I would not 'ave lasted five minutes after what 'e 'as been through thees past month, and you know eet! None of us would!'

She paused, gulping, beautiful even in the floods of tears, calming herself before carrying on.

'If there ees one theeing zat I 'ave learned from your father, James, eet iz zat you should never give up. Your father ees so strong, James, 'e will pull through. I can't imagine 'im not. 'E would never forgive 'imself.'

* * *

><p>'I'll go and fetch some tea.' Audrey said quietly, standing up slowly so as not to make too much noise or commotion, and to make sure her bones did not seize up from sitting so still in the same position for so long.<p>

It had been two days since James had found his father, and he really did not want tea.

But he nodded anyway.

James had finally looked at his father, properly, for the first time that day, before Audrey and Percy had come to visit.

He had felt ill; sickly purple and green bruises coated his dad's arms, and undoubtedly the rest of his depilated body too, though James could not be paid any amount of money to look any closer. Small cuts and abrasions littered his face, from the tiny little ones that could only be seen if you looked for them properly, to the scars that were the same size as the rather ominous one that stretched from James' dad's jaw to beyond the hairline on the left side of his face.

Of course, the deathly pale skin and clammy, useless limbs went without saying.

James had refused to look more fully after that horrifying experience, and was, needless to say, incredibly grateful for the impeccable timing executed by his Uncle Percy; ever the politician.

'How are you doing, James?' Percy said suddenly, his voice croaky and raw, evidence of what the whole family had been going through throughout the duration of James' father's captivity.

'Coping.' James said shortly, eyes still staring unseeingly out of the window by the chair that he had claimed as his own for as long as it took.

Percy made a noise that signalled his agreement, and they slipped into silence once more, before Percy spoke again, sounding angry and wry with himself.

'If you'd have told me a few years ago that I'd be sitting by Harry Potter's bedside willingly, worried to death about his welfare, I'd have laughed in your face.'

James looked up in surprise. He knew that his uncle was referring to the time that he had fallen out with his family - and specifically James' father. What surprised him was that Percy was talking about it willingly - or at least he was doing so without being told to "Shut up," and that "it was a long time ago and I will personally see to it that you get on the wrong side of the Auror and Mysteries Departments at the same time if you mention it again." by James' dad.

'I thought I was right. I thought I could be the Minister of Magic, and single-handedly get rid of all that was wrong with the world.' Percy laughed, but there was no joy in it. 'I really was an idiot.'

There was a pause, and then James spoke; 'I'm sure you weren't that bad.'

'James,' Percy said, staring at him in the eye, regret filling his own, 'I disowned my family for _two years_.'

Shocked, James could only stare at his Uncle when he continued speaking.

'I'm surprised that they took me back, to be honest. I was horrible. Slammed the door right into my own mothers face, one Christmas. I honestly thought that some kid had wandered into my life, and stolen my family from me.' Percy paused, and seeing what must have been a mixture of anger and shock on James' face, he carried on.

'I was wrong, James - I know that now. Please don't hold it to me. I've carried around that guilt for years now; and I haven't told any of your cousins. None. Please don't tell them, we've tried hard to not let you all know everything about what happened. Not until you're ready, anyway.'

There was a pause in which James' Uncle looked at him pleadingly. James didn't know what to think; was he to be thankful, for his parent's and Uncle's and Aunt's consideration his mental well being? Or should he be angry, and annoyed, that they had kept such vital parts of the legacy that he was expected to carry from him?

'I am ready. I think I've been ready for a long time.' James looked at his Uncle's guilty face. 'You know I have. You lot've just been putting it off.'

'You can't begrudge us not wanting to relive it all again, James. It was - hard. Just _hard_. You don't need to drag yourself down with that just yet.'

James felt himself puff up angrily.

'I'm seventeen, I'm not -'

There was the clip-clop of James' Aunt's shoes as they interrupted him in the middle of his angry retort, efficiently cutting away all possible malice in his speech. Before James looked to his Aunt when her mousy brown head emerged from behind the thin cotton curtains, he saw a flash of regret and sympathy crossing his Uncle's face.

'What've you two been talking about?' She said sharply, brown eyes swivelling between their guilty faces.

'Percy?' She said again, looking at her husband. 'If you've been talking about what I think you have -'

'I'm sorry, Aud. He had to know -'

'_Not right now, he doesn't_!'

Audrey's hiss was so highly pitched that James thought that even an octave higher, and it would only be heard by bats or dogs.

'His father is lying _comatose_ in a _hospital bed_! Does he _really_ need to know about a war at _this point in time_?'

Percy shook his head almost eagerly, eyes looking terrified as he hurriedly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his sweating nose.

Chest heaving, James' Aunt sat down heavily on the chair that she had previously been seated in.

'All you need to worry about now, James, is your father.' She glanced angrily at her recoiling husband. 'As your uncle and I previously agreed, you don't need to think about something stupid that your Uncle did more than a decade ago.'

Settling into her chair, Audrey crossed her arms over her chest and looked down tenderly at her Brother-in-law, eyes changing from anger to sorrow in the swiftness of Ronald Weasley running for a spider.

There was a long pause. Percy straightened up, and, looking more confident, spoke.

'Tea, love?'

Audrey's growl answered him, and it was the first time James had smiled all day.

* * *

><p>'Your dad's an idiot.'<p>

James' Uncle George's voice cut through the stagnant air easily - but in the silence, you could have heard something as small as a pin drop.

'_George_!' Angelina screeched at her husband from the seat beside him, and James looked on in no small amount of amusement as George shrank away for a moment, and then came back stronger and braver.

'It's true,' he said to his wife, 'it really is.' He turned to James, and then said; 'He probably got caught by accident, the toss -'

'_George_, for Merlin's sake!' Angelina said, elbowing him roughly on the arm.

'But it's true!' George protested and repeated once again. 'He probably caught because of his stupid nobility.' Rolling his eyes, he looked down wryly at his brother-in-law. 'Git.' He said absently. 'We always told you that your saving people thing would come back and bite you in the -'

'Please!' Came the loud shout of Angelina as she clutched her husband's arm hard. It looked painful to James, considering the wince that his Uncle let show on his face.

'I can't - don't -' James' Aunt stuttered, brown eyes filling with tears as she slowly began to lean into George's welcoming grip. 'Please don't - I can't listen to you talking about him - when he might -'

Despite the jittering, it was clear to all who heard what Angelina meant. She, along with James, did not want to hear about the times that his father had almost been killed, or his tendencies that made him almost _get_ killed. Not when he was so close to death now.

'Sorry Angie,' George said to his wife tenderly, wrapping an arm around her as she leant into him silently.

James felt almost as if he was intruding on some sort of private moment between his Aunt and Uncle, and so he averted his eyes, instead looking down at his father.

He wondered just what he had been through, during the time that he had been held captive. It had to have been both extensive, and extraordinary, to render such a great and strong man into this state, whatever the man in question might say.

James had never experienced much danger of any sort. There had, of course, always been an underlying tome of it throughout his life; what with his father's job and profile, it was hard to avoid it. It was only at that moment that James truly realised just how sheltered his parents had kept him, and it was only at that moment when James realised just how little he knew about the war and his family's rather large part of it - from what he gathered.

He could not, however, find it in his heart to begrudge his parents, or aunts and uncles. This period in all of their lives was far too difficult and treacherous for James to start whinging like some petulant child about the hardships of his pampered life.

He was drawn out of his solemn thoughts by a high-pitched whirring sound echoing from the office of Madame Pomfrey. Looking up, expecting to see the relatively unbothered faces of his Aunt and Uncle, James was surprised, and more than a little worried, to see their faces similar to what he supposed his looked like - confused and worried.

'What's that?' James asked urgently, rising from his seat. 'What is it?'

'I don't know,' George said, frowning, as he drew his wand. 'I'll go and have a -'

Madame Pomfrey came steaming out of her office with her face ashen but set in a business like vice; eyes staring straight ahead at James' father as he lay in the bed. She cut off James' Uncle with the efficiency of a Niffler hunting for gold.

'Move!' She barked, shoving a recovering-from-tears Angelina out of the way as James jumped back in amazement.

'What's wrong?' George said, panicked as he watched Madame Pomfrey begin to run her wand over and around his Brother-In-Law's head. James was glad he asked; the very same question was hovering on the very tip of his tongue, too.

'There's been a spike in his brain activity.' Madame Pomfrey murmured quickly and quietly, not bothering to inject emotion into her voice when there was what seemed to be a vital job to be done.

There was a loud gasp, and cries of amazement, before James and his Aunt and Uncle all descended upon Madame Pomfrey like Vultures to a corpse.

'What does that mean?'

'Will he be all right?'

'Is that good?'

'Is Harry going to wake up?'

'Dad's going to be fine?'

'What does "spike" mean?'

Pausing, and straightening up with a dangerous glint in her eye that had James silenced and taking a step backwards involuntarily, much unlike his Aunt and Uncle, Madame Pomfrey turned towards the three of them.

'Out,' She said quietly, a knarled finger pointing towards the door. 'I cannot, and refuse, to treat my patient with three jabbering buffoons shooting questions at me! Out!' She began shuffling them out of the door angrily. '_Out_!' The Matron repeated.

Before he knew it, the doors were slammed and locked behind him.

There was a pause, and then;

'Well, _somebody's_ a bit moody today.'

'Oh _George_,' Groaned Angelina with a long-suffering expression on her face.

All three of them paused, looking at each other warily.

'Do … do you know what's happening?' James said timidly, watching as his Uncle's face turned from mildly amused to deadly serious in the space of just a few seconds.

'I wish I did,' he said, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets and leaning against the cold stone wall. 'But I don't. I think it's either really good, or really bad.'

Sighing, James joined him. His Aunt positively melted into her husbands side.

What if it was something really bad? James thought, with a sickening weight settling slowly in his stomach. What if his father never woke up? What if he was wedged in this semi-conscious state forever, never being able to walk Lily down the aisle, or see his children leave school, or hold his Grandchildren, or moan at another Memorial set up in his name - or never speak to James or Albus or Lily or James' mother ever again?

What would they do then?

Sniffing slightly, James looked down, and was surprised to feel salty tears welling up in his eyes. _When did he start crying in front of other people?_, he thought angrily, swiping away the tears, hoping that his Aunt and Uncle would not notice.

'James?' Came the annoyingly soft voice of his Aunt. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' James said gruffly, coughing.

'No, you're not,' came the sullen voice of James' Uncle George.

He moved his hand from James' shoulder, where he had placed it mere seconds ago, and positioned it underneath his chin. Slowly, James made eye-contact with his Uncle.

'I'm sorry we haven't been paying much attention recently.' He said softly. 'We should have. We didn't think. I'm sorry.'

'You've got nothing to be sorry for -'

'You're too much like your dad for your own good.'

James felt the tears welling up in his eyes at the mention of his father.

'It's all right to cry,' George said, moving his hands to both of James' shoulders, and kneeling down slightly so that their eyes were level. Angelina looked on silently.

'Everyone does it,' George continued, 'Merlin knows I have over the past few weeks.'

James looked at his Uncle deeply.

'I'm scared.' He admitted, and then he started crying fully, just at the same moment that his Uncle enveloped him in a strong and warm hug, that crushed him and kept him safe from his problems for just a short while.

* * *

><p><strong>- You don't know how sorry I am about how late this update is. All I can do is apologize, hope you enjoy it, and say that this is hopefully an adequate Christmas and New Year treat. Hopefully 2013 will be the year of many updates!<strong>

**- Spellmugwump97**


	11. Part 11

**WE HAVE HARRY POTTER**

_Part 11_

* * *

><p>Madame Pomfrey eventually emerged from the doors of the hospital wing with a grim look on her face, and from the expression it was, James' stomach dropped so much so that he swore that it was almost audible.<p>

'What is it?'

It was James' mother, who, along with the rest of James' family, had been summoned to the corridor outside of the hospital wing as soon as he had finished with his little emotional breakdown. James very much appreciated the fact that they all pretended that they couldn't see the red, raw eyes or the cheeks flushed with tear stains.

'I …' Madame Pomfrey's speech jarred to a halt as she took in the faces of the Weasley family. She gulped loudly, sniffed, pressed her hands down the front of her robes and straightened her head. 'He is not well.'

James' stomach descended even further. What could that mean, he wondered briefly, his mind sorting and sifting through all of the terrifying possibilities that could have befallen his dad.

None of the dozens of possibilities that he thought of in those few seconds was the culprit of the suffering that would cause the tense week that was to follow that day - despite his previous thoughts on the subject.

'He … He's …' Drawing a hand to her mouth, Madame Pomfrey stifled something that James might have thought was a sob.

'No.'

All of their heads whipped around to the voice and of whom was saying it. It was Neville Longbottom.

He was standing still as stone, positively glaring at Madame Pomfrey in horror. With his eyes wide and his mouth set in a firm line that displayed his utter aversion to whatever conclusion he had come across in his head that James could not even hope to fathom, the ratty old work robes he wore and the dirt stains did not detract in the slightest from his fearsome appearance.

'Mr. Longbottom -' Madame Pomfrey said in shock; apparently she had not known, like the rest of them, that Neville was here with them.

'Not Harry,' He said, walking towards the old Healer, eyes only on her watery ones. 'He can't … he's too strong. He can fight it.'

Covering her eyes before she spoke, and lowering them to meet the devastated brown eyes of her fellow staff member, she drew in a deep breath.

'I am afraid,' her lip wobbled, 'that the chances of recovery are slim. Very much so -'

'But there's a chance!' Neville said forcefully, and the rest of those gathered looked on in confusion. 'There's a chance he'll get better!'

'I …' She sighed, suddenly looking far older and wearier than James had ever seen her. She seemed to suddenly shrink into herself, as though subconsciously hiding from the situation at hand. Her mouth opened once again, but it seemed that the ability of producing speech had temporarily evaded her. She closed it and lowered her head.

There was a heartbeat of silence that seemed to last a lifetime, and all gathered remained silent and still, weary of what this conversation meant, or what it could lead to.

It was James' Uncle Ron that broke the silence.

'Neville,' he said in a low growl, jaw tightly wound and set, 'if you're saying what I think you're saying -'

Grim face set in cast iron, Neville replied just as forcefully to his old dorm-mate. 'I wish it weren't true. I only … it's the only possibility from what she's saying.'

Uncle Ron scanned the face of James' Herbology professor. He seemed to find what he was looking for, however, as he swung around in lightning speed, and punched the wall viciously, not caring about the pain it might cause. He swore rapidly and loudly while he did it, but nobody really seemed to care.

James just wanted to be kept out of the dark. He wanted to know what they were talking about.

'I will not let him become a vegetable!' Uncle Ron roared, angrily pointing towards Neville, who stood stoically facing him. 'Not after everything he's been through!'

'Oh God,' Rose whispered from next to James, her hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes as wide and round as saucers. James was still unaware of what they were all going on about. In fact, he was just about to ask Rose as to what was going on, as it was _his_ father and very much _his_ problem too.

James' Uncle Percy beat him first, blue eyes warily flicking between his brother and Neville.

'What's going on?' He said rather bravely, his voice cutting through the air violently. 'What's happened to Harry?'

There was a single, shuddering stop in the events, in which all eyes landed on Neville. He seemed to shrink under the weight of all of their stares, as if the realisation of the people that he was with had suddenly hit him through all of his anger that came from an unknown source to James, as of yet.

'Ask Madame Pomfrey,' Neville said softly, looking at Madame Pomfrey with apology in his eyes. 'She's the Healer, after all.'

All of their gazes switched to Madame Pomfrey. She looked at them all, each person being pinned with a strong, blazing look, before she let out a deep breath.

'What you must understand,' she said slowly, and James thought that she must be choosing her words very carefully, 'is that Harry was subjected to severe trauma over the span of that month. Trauma to both his body and his mind. As of this moment in time, having awoken from his coma, Harry is currently … unresponsive.'

There was a pause, and then a small thump as James sunk to the floor.

Sitting on the floor, James did not even need to look up to see the devastation on his family's faces. He did not need to look into a mirror to see his own heartbreak.

He knew what Madame Pomfrey was saying, and why Neville had been so angry and had seen what had happened straight away. Neville had direct relations with a situation of this manner, and the outcome was not good.

James did not think that he could bear it.

How could he possibly walk into a dull old hospital ward in Saint Mungo's, to go and visit a father that really wasn't his dad anymore? How could he ever look at the blank and unresponsive mask that used to be so full of life and laughter despite the demons that had previously haunted it so long before James had even been thought of?

A new respect blossomed in James' chest for Neville. It seemed, from his behaviour, that coping with his vegetative parents was one of the hardest battles he had ever fought - and was still fighting.

It was too much - the sting in his eyes as he clamped them shut, and the feeling of his own arms encircling his head as he brought it down to meet and rest on his knees was all too much.

James would not be able to cope, he would not be able to ever look at his dad in the same way for he would not be the man who taught him to ride a broom, or the same man that fought off the monsters that haunted James' nightmare's when he was little. The man that had told James off for feeding his crusts to the dog, and the man that supported James through no matter what - be it a horrific mark on his homework or a prank gone seriously and badly wrong, - was gone.

And the hole that suddenly felt gapingly huge in James' chest widened so much so that it was a certain fact that it would never be filled or healed, and in that void of space were the thoughts and feelings of what-could-have-been's and wishes and hopes and memories that James wanted to share his future with his father with.

It was all too much.

James stumbled to his feet, ignoring the murmured words from his family that told him to _stay_ and to _sit back down_, and he walked off down the corridor, afraid of what he was heading towards, but absolutely and irrevocably terrified of what he was leaving behind him in his wake.

He found himself in the Astronomy Tower. It surprised him that it was night - the pitch blackness that was only illuminated by the brief sightings of the moon when it emerged from it's cloudy cover was strangely comforting, he found.

James did not care whether his family could or could not find him; and perhaps is was supremely selfish of him but he simply couldn't find it in himself to care. They should be worrying about his dad. Not him.

His eyes stung, but this time, he let the tears fall freely as he gazed out over the rolling hills and mountains that made up the Scottish landscape. Despite the season being summer, snow still lay on the mountains like little white caps. James found it strangely comforting.

His thoughts, however, strayed to much darker places than the blackness of night that surrounded him.

In his voyage to try and stop thinking about his father's current … _state_, James had begun thinking about just who had caused the entire mess in the first place.

He had reason to presume that the culprit was some sort of Death Eater supporter - there were no ex Death Eaters wondering around as far as he knew, and so therefore James thought that it might be the son of a Death Eater … perhaps looking for revenge? James shook his head. He didn't know, and he probably never would.

Some sort of searing, clawing monster crawled it's way through James' body and settled itself there, pulling back it's head and roaring. James swore, in that moment, that he would get revenge. His father was _incapable_ of exacting his own revenge on his captor, and so James would do it for him.

They would not be allowed to get away with it. Not if James had anything to do with it.

But before James' thoughts could wallow anymore, before he could begin to work up and real hate and anger and sadness towards the entire situation and the people involved, a small and meek cough sounded from behind him.

James swivelled around, his hand going for his wand instantly, readying it just a moment before he faced the intruder of his private moment.

It was Scorpius Malfoy.

'What do _you_ want?' James snarled, trying to make his voice sound as terrifying as he could, due to the fact that he knew full well that his face was tear-stained and probably looked weaker than it ever had before. Nevertheless, Malfoy took a step backwards, and raised his hands slightly in a show of meaning no harm.

'I … I know about what happened to your dad.' Malfoy gulped.

There was a moment of silence before James lunged at the smaller boy, pinning him to the wall and jabbing his wand, - the one his father had bought with him, - into the pale neck.

'_How_?' James hissed, his face so close to the boy who was a year younger that he swore he could almost smell the fear on him.

'It was only an accident I found out!' Malfoy squeaked, and James loosened his grip of the blonde boy's collar, knowing that it would do no good if his only information source as to who did this to him father ended up being strangled - as pleasant as that thought might be.

'I heard my dad talking to someone -'

'So it was him? Your dad?' James' grip tightened.

'No!' Malfoy said forcefully, showing the first emotion that wasn't fear or wariness since the beginning of their encounter. 'He was trying to talk them _out_ of it!'

James released Malfoy, and let the boy struggle to breathe as his mind spun with this new information.

The Malfoy's were involved … that fact standing alone did not really shock James. More the fact that … Draco Malfoy, was it? More the fact that he was trying to convince or persuade whoever was involved _not_ to go through with it.

That was the really shocking part of it.

James knew the animosity that was shared between his entire family and the Malfoy's. It almost seemed natural - the sun rose in the east and set in the west; the Malfoy's and Weasley's hated each other. James' father had always been what his family called a "Stupidly-Forgiving-Hero-Complex-Weirdo", and this enabled him to actually hold civil conversations with Draco Malfoy in the Ministry.

They were by no means friends - James didn't think that his father's and Uncle's friendship could survive _that_ particular shock.

Swallowing down both the corrosive anger and terrifying sadness that threatened to consume him whilst thinking about his father, James looked at Malfoy again, who's breathing looked to be under control once again.

'Did you not hear who they were?' James asked impatiently.

'No, don't you think I would have said?' Malfoy said huffily. 'My dad only said that he wouldn't get involved, and that he wasn't going to support them. He told them not to do it - practically begged them.' Malfoy looked up at James, eyes wide, as if willing him to believe him. 'I left before I could hear anything else, I thought they were coming to the door.'

There was silence before James asked another question, though this time much slower and much more thoughtfully.

'Why didn't you say anything sooner? Then maybe we could've got him back sooner - maybe he wouldn't be -'

James cut himself off before he could reveal anything more.

_Then maybe he wouldn't be insane_.

'I tried to,' Malfoy said slowly, interrupting James' thoughts. He was grateful to the Fifth Year. 'But I couldn't get hold of you. Every time I tried you were surrounded with people, or you were leaving.'

A sudden clarity washed over James as he remembered all of the times that he had brushed or knocked aside someone with the bright blonde hair that could only belong to a Malfoy - it was almost as distinctive as the Weasley red hair. He remembered vividly the time he pushed aside someone, - who must have been Malfoy, - outside the Hospital Wing just before Bill and Fleur had arrived.

Another thought occurred to him.

'Why me? Why not once of my cousins or Aunts and Uncles or something?'

Malfoy sighed. 'I couldn't go to your brother because we're in the same year,' James didn't know how that was an issue but he let it slide. 'Your sister is too young, and I could hardly go and have a civil conversation with one of your Aunts and Uncles, could I?' He raised an aristocratic eyebrow.

'What about my cousins?'

'Same sort of reasons as Albus and Lily, really.'

James shrugged and learnt against the wall. 'So I was the safest option out of all of my family, was I?'

'Apparently.'

There was a pause that stretched awkwardly between the two and blanketed the small tower space.

'What now?' James asked, this time he being the one wary as he expected that he would be made to offer something in return for the information. He was a Malfoy, after all, no matter the situation or circumstances.

'You can do whatever you like with it,' Malfoy said. 'I've done my part.' He started walking towards the door of the tower.

'You don't want anything?' James said incredulously.

Malfoy turned, stopping his walking, and looking at James with what he thought might even be a hint of guilt and disappointment.

'Just because I'm a Malfoy doesn't mean I don't know the difference between right and wrong. I've done what's right, and so has my dad. I'd appreciate it if you didn't get us involved.' He fiddled with the sleeve of his robes. 'We've tried really hard to get rid of the aftermath of the war. It's … hard, being treated like you're a Death Eater because of a stupid name.'

Malfoy paused, looked at James, and as if realising how much he had said, clamped his mouth shut and near enough flew out of the door, robes whipping around the corner before James could even realise that his jaw was dangling off of his face.

And James was left stew over the new information that he held.

* * *

><p><strong>- I hope this chapter is all right; I worked really hard on it to make the characters and the situations realistic and how I think that the characters would react. I hope you liked it.<br>I'm sorry for the late update; all I can say is that I'll really try hard to get the new chapter up quicker for Part 12. I'm aware that I've probably lost a few supporters; as I really probably should, given how bad my updating has been. I hope I can win you back!**

**Who do you think Harry's kidnappers are? I'll give you a hint; there's only two.**

**- Spellmugwump:)**


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